


Through the Furnace, Unshrinking

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desperation, Eventual Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Lemon, M/M, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Prostitution, Sexual Violence, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Violence, Yaoi, lots of 'not-nice-ness' in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 145,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by June--In a city not known for its upstanding moral character, the five G-boys -- all switchblade slinging hustlers -- must become brothers in arms to make it out alive.





	1. Wideshot: Heero

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \-------  
> Warnings: this gets pretty dark in places, but there's always hope.

**Wideshot: Heero**

Razzle dazzle drazzle drone  
Time for this one to come home  
Razzle dazzle drazzle die  
Time for this one to come alive  
And hold my life until I'm ready to use it  
Hold my life because I just might lose it  
Because I just might lose it  
_-"Hold My Life" The Replacements_  
  
Heero leaned back in his chair and let himself return to his body. He surveyed the situation with a cool, detached eye, ignoring the vague, receding ribbons of pleasure that throbbed around his groin. He couldn't really classify them as pleasure, anyway - not anymore. The man with his head between Heero's legs sat back on his heels and looked up at him with wide appreciative gray eyes. From his position above him, Heero fought back a sneer. He'd woken up too soon. He hated this part; the lust-filled stares, the slack-jawed adoration. He kept his body very still, quelling the literal knee-jerk reaction that would break the john's jaw. The Boss would not approve of that little improvisation.  
  
Piercing blue eyes drilled into the kneeling man's until finally his client shook himself and pulled three twenties from his wallet, handing them to the Japanese man like they were an offering to some higher being. Heero accepted the money without a word of thanks and stood up quickly, buttoning his jeans and straightening his clingy black shirt with easy, automatic movements. His eyes imperceptibly flicked to the young man standing in the doorway connecting the hotel suite bedrooms. The steely control he exerted over his body relaxed slightly at the sight of his best friend and business partner leaning casually against the wall, long thin arms crossed over a narrow chest. Duo grinned at him, a slow smile that spread almost to his eyes. In those violet-blue irises, Heero detected something...off. He frowned. His partner shook his head ever so slightly, dismissing Heero's concern. Later, Heero told himself. Right now, Duo was finished and he was finished. That meant they could leave. He stepped away from the man on the floor and towards his friend, slowly letting out his  
breath.  
  
When the john grabbed him by the ankle, Heero's muscles bunched and coiled with the reflexive need to break the man's wrist. Duo tensed in the doorway, a frown creasing his brow. His jaw clenched tightly, Heero turned back to the man still kneeling on the floor. The john's suit and hair were immaculate. He looked like he belonged in this posh hotel suite, but not on the floor about to beg Heero for...something he didn't want to give. The man's face - now Heero's  
lip did curl.  
  
"We're finished here."  
  
"But... I'll pay more. I have money. We can keep going." Heero jerked his foot out of the man's grip just as Duo strode into the room, all lithe and deadly grace.  
  
"Sorry, buddy, but we're busy, busy guys and if you want to see Heero again, just see the Big Boss Man he'll set it up for ya." Duo's smile was demure and sweet, infinitely understanding - and utterly fake. He took Heero's hand in an amicable grip, though his fingers held him like steel bands. "It's been a pleasure. I'm sure we'll see you again real soon."  
  
Heero let his body relax a little, gave it the task of exiting the room. But as they reached the door, the john who'd so recently been with Duo emerged from the bathroom, casually wiping his hands on a hand towel. Heero caught a predatory gleam in the man's dark eyes and instantly mistrusted him. The john on the floor had been obnoxious; this man was dangerous. "Why don't you boys stay awhile. I'm sure your boss'll understand."  
  
Duo's smile didn't falter, but his eyes turned to ice. Only Heero noticed the change in his demeanor. These two tricks did not want to see a pissed-off Duo Maxwell. If they didn't back off in the next ten seconds, they just might.  
  
"Next week, gents. Heero and I have a very important dinner date."  
  
The man on the floor slowly got to his feet, his expression changing from one of embarrassed resignation to hope and lust. He glanced from the other john back to the boys, pale eyes eager.  
  
The two young men stood perfectly still. The john who'd come out of the bathroom stalked closer until he'd thoroughly invaded Heero's get-this-close-and-bones-will-break space. He made a few attempts at grabbing the young man's other wrist, Heero easily avoiding his grasping hands. "I haven't had you yet," the man sneered.  
  
Heero took in a slow deep breath, disguising the war raging in his muscles: break his nose or walk away, break his nose or walk away.  
  
"Like I said, big guy," Duo reminded, still smiling, "Just call the Boss Man and he'll set up some quality time with you and Heero. But we gotta jet. Lots to do today."  
  
"I want him now," the man gritted. His hard features twisted into a cruel smile. Heero's mistrust of this client ratcheted up a few notches to outright loathing. "Don't get me wrong, Duo. You were great, but you wanted it too much. You had too much fun. This guy..." He tried again for Heero's wrist. Duo still held the other. "He looks like he'd put up a fight. Believe me kid, you wouldn't like what I'd- "  
  
Without a word of warning, Heero slammed the heel of his hand into the man's jaw, dropping him like a stone. Beside him, Duo jumped.  
  
"Geez, Ro."  
  
Blood trickled out of the man's mouth. The other john whimpered.  
  
Heero didn't bother to hide his satisfaction as, with a small grin, he pulled Duo out of the suite, letting the door bang shut behind them.  
  
Duo burst out laughing the moment they flew through the doors into the stairwell. He let go of Heero's hand just as the Japanese man leapt over the railing with easy grace and nearly flew down the stares. He turned just in time to see Duo slide down the railing, meter-long braid trailing behind him like a banner, their banner.  
  
"Pretty fuckin' awesome, Ro," he crowed. "Guy never saw it comin'. Thought we'd just go along with it. Well," The hustler landed lightly, coming face-to-face with his partner, their noses centimeters apart. "Neither of us needed that, thank you very much. And you certainly wouldn't have wanted him." His grin faltered and Heero glimpsed the off-ness in his friend's clear gaze. Then the grin reappeared, though a bit grimmer. "I think he's off the client list."  
  
With that, the young man turned and strode away, the usual spring in his step lending him a care-free air that Heero wasn't sure he actually felt. He made a mental note to check Duo for injuries later. He hoped he was just being paranoid and that the shadows around Duo's biceps were just that and not bruises. That john had felt all wrong, and if he'd done something to Duo... He cast his eyes down the slender back and narrow hips. A black tank top clung to his ribs, revealing sharp shoulder blades and the twin tracks of tattoo ink that curved around underneath those shoulder blades, tattoos that matched his own. Black jeans hugged the harsh lines of his pelvic and hip bones, then hung straight to his boots. Heero thought those clothes made him look...taller, more imposing than his 5'7" frame warranted. He looked good. And with that ridiculous braid hanging down to his ass, well, Heero thought he looked dangerously good, too-much-attention good.  
  
For the thousandth time, he wished that he could carry more than just a switchblade on jobs. The fact that they were both barely armed when they met up with tricks made his skin crawl. He had to be able to protect Duo and he couldn't when they were in separate rooms with suspicious characters and no real weapons and no guarantee that...  
  
He shook out his shoulders and calmed his breathing, settling on the fact that Duo didn't look hurt. They'd lived through the day, and that'd have to be good enough for right now. Tonight could be a different story.


	2. (Duo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

In bathrooms and barrooms,  
On dumpsters and heirlooms,  
We bit our tongues.  
Sucked our lips into our lungs  
'til we were falling.  
Such was our calling.  
_-"On the Bus Mall" The Decemberists_  
  
"I'm so fucking sick of bugs!" Duo shouted, squashing a cockroach as thoroughly as possible. Grimacing, he turned up his nose as he threw away the paper towel with the remains of his nemesis folded into it. "When we make it big, no more bugs, baby. We'll have the latest in bug-neutralizing technology. A perimeter check. 'Excuse me, sir? Do you have an exoskeleton or at least six legs? Well, I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave the premises.' Squish!" he shouted enthusiastically.  
  
He turned as he sensed someone behind him and grinned at the black-haired man poking his head into the kitchen. "'Sup, Wu?"  
  
"Who were you talking to?" the young man asked, taking a tentative step inside and idly looking around the room.  
  
"The insect population of our apartment." Duo's grin widened when his friend flinched almost imperceptibly and cast another, more wary glance at the base boards. "S'okay. I got'im. And I think I scared off the rest with my threats."  
  
Wufei looked back up at Duo, raising an eyebrow. "You know, if we have an anti-insect policy around here, we'll exclude the bulk of our clientele." He paused. "Which would be great. I fully endorse your idea."  
  
Duo's lip curled and then he shrugged. "I guess we'll have to add a warm-blooded exception, 'cause as much as you and Heero would love a drastic reduction in clients, Boss Man really wouldn't." He sighed and grabbed the toast he'd been about to eat when the cockroach had skittered in front of the trash can. He took a bite and turned back to Wufei. "Speaking of which are you ready for tonight?"  
  
Now it was Wufei's turn to scowl. "I don't want to talk about it. Are you sure I even have to go?"  
  
Duo laughed and walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "It's gonna be a night to remember. Make sure you pick out something pretty to wear."  
  
Duo strolled into the bedroom he shared with Heero to find his roommate standing in front of their full-length mirror, applying kohl to his lower eyelid. "You're looking sexy tonight, Ro, " Duo said around a mouthful of toast. The only response he got was a grunt. Rolling his eyes, Duo flopped on his bed and continued the conversation, responding for Heero. "Why thank you Duo. You're looking fine as usual. Hey thanks, man! You sure do know how to make a buddy feel good about himself. Well, you're my best friend and I want you to know that you're appreciated. Aw, stop. You're too kind. You're making me blush. I haven't even gotten dressed yet. Yes, but you should know that even those old jeans look really great. And that shirt. The holes are-"  
  
"Duo, you look like a slob. And you're getting crumbs all over your bed."  
  
"Heero Yuy, ladies and gentleman. He does weddings and Bar Mitzvahs, too."  
  
"You should get ready. We have to leave soon."  
  
Duo shoved the last bit of toast in his mouth and stood up again, coming to stand behind his partner. "I know. I know. And I will. You've gotta give a guy his privacy though. How am I supposed to come up with the perfect ensemble with you glaring at me in that mirror?"  
  
Dark blue eyes met his for a second then flickered away. "I'm not glaring." Duo snorted. "Are you aware of the parameters for tonight's mission?" Duo snorted again.  
  
"Yes, Heero. You've told me at least half a dozen times already." He turned away and wandered over to his closet, gesticulating dramatically as he went. "We get to the club, look unbelievably hot, dance our asses off like the gods that we are-"  
  
"Duo…"  
  
"What? Oh, and we make sure certain individuals notice us. We keep'em happy until the Big Guns can take over. Piece of cake!" He turned away from the closet and flopped back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head and watching appreciatively as Heero removed his jeans and threw them in the hamper. He then pulled a pair of black pants from his closet.  
  
"I just want us to be ready."  
  
Duo smiled at his back, a small and affectionate expression, one that very few people ever saw. "Heero," he said quietly, and his partner turned to face him, painted eyes narrowed in concentration. "We have essentially no responsibility tonight. I know you wish we did, but seriously, buddy. You should try to relax and have a little fun. It'd do you good."  
  
The Japanese man turned back to the mirror, fighting his way into the pants. "Right." He frowned as he inspected his appearance. The pants were quite tight and vaguely iridescent.  
  
Duo could tell that he hated them. Duo thought they hugged his hips and ass in a most flattering manner. "You look good," he said honestly. But he knew that Heero was frowning because there wasn't room in those pants for favorite dagger. "And you're gonna have to settle for the old switchblade, like the rest of us. Tis a glamorous life we lead, Ro. There's no room for big blades."  
  
Heero grunted in response and grabbed his boots, deftly lacing them up. When he'd finished this task, he slid his knife into the right one and straightened to face his partner. He looked Duo up and down, taking in the ratty jeans and torn long-sleeve shirt. "You should get ready," he said again. "You can't go like that."  
  
Duo looked down at his clothes then back up at his best friend. His eyes sparked. "Why, Heero, when did you grow a sense of fashion?"  
  
The young man looked confused. "I didn't. I- looked into the appropriate clothing for…" He trailed off when Duo's grin reappeared. His mouth quirked upward in a small smile and he shook his head. "Hurry up and get ready."  
  
Duo's eyes followed him out and he frowned before turning towards his closet. He pulled out a few piece of clothing and threw them on the bed, wincing as he bent over to grab his boots and a shirt that had fallen off its hanger. Damn, he was sore. That asshole he'd had earlier was making his presence known well after the fact. Duo hated those johns. He didn't like to remember the bad ones. He straightened a bit stiffly and stripped out of his old shirt, pulling on a sleek tank top and tugging it down over his chest. Turning to face the mirror, he bit back a curse and angrily strode forward to examine his reflection more closely.  
  
He gently pressed long fingers to his collarbone, frowning at the bruises darkening his pale skin. Fuck. He'd hoped he wouldn't bruise. And if he did, he thought they'd be well below the neck. He looked down at his waist and saw similar bruises forming over his hip bones. And around his biceps. Fuck! He seriously hoped that dick was off the client list. He'd filed his complaint as soon as he and Heero had gotten home. The Boss usually listened to him about these things, and he really really didn't want to see that guy ever again. The fact that Heero had dropped him was the only good part of the whole afternoon.  
  
Duo turned away from the mirror, pulling the tank top back over his head as we walked to the bed. "Looks like long sleeves tonight," he grumbled, bending down to pluck a stretchy black shirt with a dark red lining from the pile on the bed.  
  
"Why? Modesty has never been your strong suit."  
  
Duo yelped in surprise, turning quickly to face the young man behind him. "Jeez, Wu. Don't sneak up on a guy like that. I'm liable to stick ya with Lola." Duo flashed a quick grin and glanced significantly at his knife where it rested on his dresser.  
  
Wufei sniffed. "Just try it."  
  
"Careful, buddy," Duo warned good naturedly, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head. But he wasn't quick enough. When his head popped out of the neck hole, he saw that Wufei's eyes were wide with surprise and dawning anger. The young man stared openly at his bruises, then looked up with rage sparking in black irises. Duo quickly jerked the shirt down to cover his stomach and hips, but the damage was done. The Chinese man stalked forward, body rigid and, in spite of himself, Duo felt the need to back away.  
  
Grabbing Duo's wrist, Wufei yanked back the sleeve and glared at the reddish-purple bruises darkening his friend's skin. He looked back up and Duo's strange blue-violet eyes were immediately everywhere but on him.  
  
"What happened, Duo? Who did this to you?"  
  
Knowing that Wufei wouldn't let this - or him - go until he answered, Duo frowned and met his friend's gaze. "Troll I had to day. Guy was a real bruiser."  
  
"Does Heero know? Are- are you injured anywhere else?"  
  
The braided man shook his head. "No, Heero doesn't know, and you're not gonna tell him. And no, I'm not hurt. Just a little stiff and a few more bruises than I like."  
  
"Why shouldn't I tell him?" Wufei asked, voice rising. Duo glanced over his friend's shoulder, frantically looking for Heero. He didn't see him. Must be in the bathroom or kitchen.  
  
"Wu, please keep it down."  
  
The young man's scowl only deepened. "Why? Where was he when this asshole was beating you up? You went on this job together. Where was he?"  
  
"Wu, sshh!" Duo pulled his hand free, looking once more for his partner, then turning away from the door and pulling Wufei out of sight. "Look, I'll tell you what happened. Just, please don't tell Heero. He- won't understand."  
  
"Neither do I! Duo, you're paid to give people pleasure, not take their shit."  
  
"I know, I know," Duo said in his most conciliatory tone. "Just, listen, okay?"  
  
Wufei crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, inviting Duo to speak. He swallowed and looked down at the bruise on his wrist. "The two johns we had today were…polar opposites. The one was just in awe of us. The other wanted… he wanted us to put up a fight, wanted to hurt us. So, I took him because I knew Heero wouldn't put up with it and would probably rip his balls off."  
  
Wufei nodded, probably thinking Heero's violent reaction would have been the logical and most prudent course of action. Duo spared a moment to reflect affectionately on his two best friends. Heero Yuy - stoic, quiet, reserved, strong, smart as hell… and very violent when he had to be. The oldest and best friend he'd ever had. Chang Wufei - sarcastic, fast, intelligent, a bit prudish, surprisingly funny…and also rather violent. A short-tempered dragon Duo knew would never betray him.  
  
"So, we were in separate rooms and…" familiar anger and shame blossomed in his chest. "He said I was enjoying it too much, wanted me to work a little harder." He thought he heard Wufei's teeth grind together. "Asshole shoved me around, fucked me so hard I thought I'd go through the wall, but I didn't want to say anything 'cause Heero was in the next room. He- well, I let it go too far. I should have stopped him, but I figured I was handling it better than Heero would. And anyway," Duo smirked, a fierce grin sliding along his wide mouth, "Ro ended up decking the prick by the end. Might have broken his jaw."  
  
Wufei snorted, satisfied. "So much for avoiding Heero's temper."  
  
"I know." And now the grin was in full force. "But, Wu you shoulda seen it. The guy bled and everything." And then the grin was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "You can't tell Heero about it though. You won't, right?"  
  
Wufei shook his head, no. "He'd put himself in more danger by avenging your already dubious honor."  
  
Duo barked a laugh and punched his friend in the shoulder. "Thanks, buddy. It's good to know you think so highly of me."  
  
Wufei looked him over once again, from head to foot, one last check to make sure he was alright. "You know, you couldn't ask for a better friend and protector. Heero will always be there…so long as he doesn't find out about this, go murder that john and then 'mysteriously disappear' when the Boss finds out."  
  
Duo nodded. "I know. Hence the long sleeves." Turning away, he threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Figures. The night we all get to go out and dance our hot little asses off, I gotta wear a sensible shirt. I'm gonna be sweatin' my balls off!"  
  
"Thank you for that image."  
  
"Oh, come on, Wu. Like you haven't seen sweaty balls before, like you don't encounter balls every fucking day. Balls, balls, balls! Oi! Don't turn away from me when I'm talking to you! I swear, your sense of propriety knows no bounds."  
  
Wufei had put his hands over his ears after the second 'balls' and turned to leave. "I'm not listening to you."  
  
"Clearly," the braided man laughed, grabbing Wufei by the arm and pulling him back into the bedroom. "Okay, okay, I'm done now, I promise. What was it you wanted anyway? You need help picking out that pretty outfit?" Duo had the immediate satisfaction of seeing a blush rise up Wufei's neck and turn his face pink underneath that enviable golden skin. "You do, don't you."  
  
"Maxwell-"  
  
"You need help picking out a pretty outfit."  
  
"No, I just-"  
  
"He's mine!" Duo crowed, sweeping his friend up into an enormous hug.  
  
"It's not that; it's just that I don't know-"  
  
"All mine!" They stumbled out of the bedroom, Duo half-carrying Wufei, the latter thoroughly ruffled and affronted, the former keeping his eyes trained on Heero as he emerged from the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. They watched each other for no more than a few seconds, but Duo could read surprise and slight suspicion in that dark blue gaze. He shot his best friend a small smile and the look evaporated. Heero offered a half smile in return and Duo felt his heart jump. Then he nearly fell into Wufei's bedroom and, laughing, closed the door behind him.


	3. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**3a. Heero**  
  
I can sense it  
Something important  
Is about to happen  
It's coming up  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality" Bjork_  
  
Heero knew the moment he walked into the club with his three friends that this was no ordinary fuck in a hotel room, no hand job in an alley. This was different -- bigger. The place -- Odyssey, or some such ridiculous name -- was pricey. The clientele were all very well dressed and carried themselves with an air of entitlement. He knew this would bug Wufei and probably Duo, too, except the latter was much better at mixing with the high-rollers than their more volatile companion. Almost immediately, they were asked for their jackets, a formality that made Heero uneasy. He'd lived almost his entire life clinging desperately to every possession he'd ever owned, not knowing if or when it would be stolen or forcibly taken from him. To willingly hand over his leather jacket went against every instinct he'd developed over the last twenty years. But after a quick glance at Duo, who gave him a reassuring nod, he gave it to the young man expectantly holding out his hand.  
  
Heero had the feeling that, while on the surface of things, they didn't have all that much responsibility, tonight was a test. They would be watched to see how they handled something other than sex. With the stubborn determination that was, as Duo put it, "not your most endearing characteristic," Heero decided that tonight they would all prove themselves. If they were watched, the Boss would see that they could handle more than just tricks. Tonight would be their ticket up.  
  
He and Duo had been working for the Boss -- a man by the name of Gael -- for about five years. When they were 15, they'd signed on as thieves -- the eyes and ears of the organization on the street. In a city this size, no one noticed a couple of skinny, undernourished teenagers with dirt on their faces, even when said ruffians were busy stealing food and guns. As a team, Heero and Duo were unstoppable, two shadows that disappeared at the first hint of suspicion. Having lived on their own as far back as they could remember, the boys knew the city and everyone in it better than they knew the alphabet. They proved invaluable to Gael's steady takeover of the city's underbelly. Heero hadn't particularly liked stealing -- that was Duo's strong suit. He preferred the slow and careful infiltration of street gangs, the investigation of members to find out who was running what for whom. He loved seeing them brought down, scattered and taken over by the Boss's more legitimate business. He'd seen enough children dead from cocaine cut with something cheap and dangerous; at least now street kids couldn't afford the Boss's prices. Heero figured he'd done them a favor, even if after a particularly nasty gang had gone down, he and Duo had to lay low for awhile. And if rich trust fund kids wanted to get hooked on chemicals with Daddy's cash, that was their business. He wanted nothing to do with their affairs; none of them had ever helped him.   
  
He didn't mind that the only thing the Boss offered them was protection. He and Duo had been on their own long enough to find food and shelter themselves. When they were on the street, everyone knew they were Gael's, and that was enough. If anyone gave them trouble -- which happened pretty often given Duo's big mouth -- they could handle that too. They'd obviously never had any official training in self defense; however, playing the hands they'd been dealt gave the two of them the incentive to not only know how to defend themselves but also have enough skill to prevent future fights.   
  
Except, of course, when Duo went looking for them. Which he did. Regularly. Heero was a better fighter than Duo, but that didn't bother either of them. He knew that his best friend could simply disappear if he had to. That kid could just vanish like smoke and be out of danger, even with a dozen hopped-up thugs on his tail. Not that Duo would ever leave Heero alone in a fight. They trusted each other implicitly. They'd fought... and killed for each other in the past. Not something either of them would forget. They were a unit, and so when they were offered the hustling gig, they didn't even consider the position unless they took it as a team.   
  
Duo had spent a fair amount of time convincing Heero that a roof over their heads and steady pay were worth the sacrifices to their dignity. Heero's dignity was not a concern. He'd never known parents, or security, or hope for a bright future in marketing or consulting. He had no dignity to lose. He did worry about safety. Over the past couple years, Duo had grown into those long limbs and turned into a striking young man, graceful, agile, and beautiful by some peoples' standards. And that goddamn braid. If they took the hustling job, Duo would be a target simply because of the way he looked. Heero didn't know why the fool didn't just cut his hair and keep his head down. But that was Duo. And where he went, Heero went.   
  
So, now, they were prostitutes, working for the largest family in organized crime in the city. They had an apartment, a steady cash flow and even a couple friends -- though he knew almost nothing about them.  
  
Trowa Barton had started the same time they had. With a head full of dark red hair, big green eyes, a long lean body and a faint French accent, the man got plenty of business. He was out on jobs a lot and when he was at the apartment, he stayed in his room. As far as Heero could tell, he didn't hate the job, though he certainly didn't appear to enjoy it. Hard to know what he enjoyed.  
  
The same did not apply to their other flat-mate. Chang Wufei had joined them six months ago, a ticking time bomb of wounded pride, honor and justice. Next to Heero's own temper, this man was an angry dragon 24 hours a day. They did not know how or why he'd ended up with them -- something to do with his clan back in China. It was no doubt messy. But Heero didn't really want to know and Wufei clearly didn't want to tell them. Wufei only seemed interested in shouting and raging about justice. He'd been quite insufferable. But once Heero had nearly put him through a wall for insulting Duo's integrity, and Duo had reminded him that he was a hustler just like Heero and himself and therefore in no position to cast stones, Wufei had calmed down and the four of them now got along rather well. Well... Trowa didn't really talk. And Heero, himself, didn't much either...so Duo and Wufei were now fast friends and he and Trowa lived with them.  
  
All in all, it was as decent a situation as Heero could hope for. He had food, a roof over his head, clothing, a small stash of weapons to afford him some semblance of security and friends that he knew he could trust.  
  
But... He wouldn't tell Duo this, but he wanted out of the hustling business. He'd only been in it a year and he desperately wanted to move up in the organization. If he could just... not have to feel another person like that... not have to surrender himself, deny his reflexes. He'd almost rather be back on the street, stealing.   
  
But Duo assured him that with his fighting skills and strength, not to mention his paranoia and constant readiness for ambush, he'd make some high-roller one hell of a bodyguard. If he stuck it out, he'd be one, one of these days. And Heero believed Duo. Because Duo didn't lie.   
  
So, here they were at a posh dance club, playing the pretty distractions for some unknown bigwig meeting. It got under his skin that he had nothing really important to do, but he knew that tonight was a step in the right direction to attention and eventually promotion. Heero's target was a young girl, the daughter of some drug lord in a near-by city. He had to find this girl and keep her busy while the bosses met upstairs and discussed... whatever. He hadn't been briefed on that little detail. Much to his chagrin. He shook his head and squinted around the dimly lit room. The music throbbed so loudly, he could barely hear his own thoughts, and the bass thudded against his ribs in a most distracting manner. This would be a long night.  
  
A step in the right direction. A step in the right direction. A step in the right direction.  
  
**3b. Duo**  
  
I don't know my future after this weekend  
And I don't want to  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality"_  
  
Duo could not have been more excited. He knew Heero was about three minutes away from clocking him, but he didn't care. At that moment, walking into that club, with his best friends around him, he was ready for anything. Mostly, though, he wanted to dance. And not have to suck anyone's dick. Tonight would be dick free if he had anything to say about it. All he had to do was find this blond kid and dance him under the table until 'negotiations' were over with his family.   
  
Whatever that meant. Like he cared anyway.  
  
Maybe the kid would be hot.   
  
Maybe he could get Heero to dance. Unlikely.  
  
He examined his friends has they headed for the bar. Heero's iridescent blue shirt made his dark blue eyes flash, and he'd actually let Duo help with that unruly hair. It still stood up everywhere, but it did so in a sexier way. Trowa had needed no help. The form-fitting jeans and the tight green tank top were all he required. Besides, he was after a lady tonight. Didn't wanna be too flashy. Wufei looked downright gorgeous. His compact and wiry frame looked lethal in black. The shirt he wore was sleeveless, trimmed in silver, the pants all black. Duo had convinced him -- somehow -- to put a few silver streaks in his hair, and with his eyes lined in black, he looked almost feline.   
  
He'd come a long way from the snarling wounded dragon of a few months ago. Those first weeks together had been brutal, especially after the poor guy got his first blow job. The others quickly learned that he couldn't be on the receiving end. For an entire week, he had gone from ruthless hours of his martial arts forms, to meditation, to shouting matches with whoever he encountered. It'd all been cleared up when Heero had nearly put Wufei through the drywall after he'd called Duo a cheap whore.   
  
Duo smirked at the memory. He watched Wufei politely address the bartender and order a soda water, and the smirk grew.   
  
There will be dancing, he thought, violet eyes taking on a predatory gleam.  
  
**3c. Wufei**  
  
It takes courage to enjoy it  
The hard-core and the gentle  
Big time sensuality  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality"_  
  
Tonight, Wufei was looking for the same boy as Duo. He must be quite important for both of them to be keeping track of him. Whatever. It gave Wufei the excuse to stick close to one of the three people he knew in this ridiculous establishment. Shifting uncomfortably in his clothes, he tried to tug the shirt a little lower so that his abdomen wouldn't show when he raised his arms.   
  
"I will get you for this, Maxwell," he muttered.  
  
"Don't do that , Wu!" From behind, cool fingers wrapped around his and pried them away from the soft fabric. "You'll stretch it. The shirt fits perfectly. You should let it work its magic." Duo slid around to face him, drink in hand.  
  
"I look like a...like a..."   
  
"A Chinese god of smoke, sex, and dance?" Duo finished. His grin was blinding. "No need to thank me, Wu. Just looking at you will be my reward...and dancing with you of course."   
  
Wufei snorted and hoped the dim lighting hid his blush. "Have you spotted our target yet?" he asked, eager to change the subject.  
  
"Nope. I'm headed out to the floor soon as I finish my drink." And with that, Duo was gone, shouting to someone or other he knew at the bar.   
  
Scowling fiercely, Wufei threaded his way along the edge of the dance floor. Perhaps if this kid was anything like him, he'd be watching from the sidelines. As he wandered, he felt many sets of eyes on his back and he caught a few open stares. He cursed Maxwell yet again for his skill in persuading him to wear eye makeup. And his hair -- every time he moved his head, he caught little flashes of silver. And, well, it startled him. Yes, he was a jumpy dragon tonight, a jumpy painted dragon. As he thought of interesting ways to pay Duo back for his "help," a small voice interrupted.   
  
'Better to be painted than dead,' the voice whispered.   
  
He closed his eyes and tried to keep that little voice from growing any louder.  
  
'If the Dragon Clan hadn't found this city with its loose morals, its pretty men, and a boss willing to take you in, you'd be a banished, shamed and most likely dead dragon. What must your wife think?'  
  
"She alone understood," he muttered.  
  
'She felt sorry for you. It was her mercy that saved your life.'  
  
"I know," he whispered.  
  
'She took pity on your pathetic tainted soul and when the time came to decide your fate, she begged for your life; risked her own honor to see you put somewhere 'safe' instead of cast out or outright killed for your weakness.'  
  
Wufei abruptly left the dance floor and headed straight for the bathroom, his stomach churning with familiar anxiety. He faced his reflection in the mirror and pleaded with his treacherous brain to leave him alone for a few hours, to let him do his job.  
  
'Your job? Selling your body to not even the highest bidder is your job now? You have truly disgraced yourself. Meiran should have killed you herself instead of tossing you into this pit of temptation, instead of handing you over to people like Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, and Heero Yuy. They're as sick as you, just a bunch blasphemous faggots.'  
  
Wufei slammed his fist into the countertop, effectively silencing the cruel voice of his clan. He wrapped one arm around his middle, fighting the cramps in his stomach. His heart thudded so loudly in his ears, he didn't hear someone come in, didn't notice the footsteps behind him until he looked up to see Trowa in the mirror, standing a few paces behind him. With one precise movement, Wufei turned to face his flat-mate.   
  
"You alright?" the taller man asked.  
  
Wufei smirked and ran a hand through his silvered hair. "Not really, no. Not much I can do about it, though. We're hear for the duration."  
  
Trowa nodded, wordlessly grabbing a paper towel and dampening it in the sink. "Eye makeup's running a little," he said, voice completely void of emotion. He handed the towel to Wufei and turned him around to face the mirror. When it looked like he was about to wipe it all off, Trowa snatched it back, muttering, "Here, let me."   
  
Wufei knew better than to talk about their job tonight in a public place such as this, but the words tumbled out anyway. "I look like a joke gone wrong. I don't have the foggiest idea how to dance. And I don't have the inclination to learn."  
  
Trowa gave him a rare smile as he dabbed at the Wufei's eyelids. "You look like a work of art. Duo outdid himself."  
  
"Precisely. This was unnecessary."  
  
"Perhaps, but you made him very happy. And you're out with your friends in the most expensive club in town and you don't have to pay. Try to have a little fun."  
  
Wufei scowled. "Fun?"  
  
"For Duo, if not for yourself. He-"  
  
"I know he's been looking forward to this. He's told me many times."  
  
"That, and I think he needs a break from all the shit jobs he's had recently. Try not to be another one. You're supposed to be an ally." With that, Trowa tossed away the paper towel and walked out, leaving Wufei startled and rather ruffled. Trowa was right, of course. Duo had been through hell today -- he had the bruises to prove it. And now, out with his friends, finally able to have a good time, and Wufei was bitching about his makeup.   
  
He drew himself up to his full 5'6" and examined his reflection again. His almond-shaped eyes did look exotic and almost dangerous painted in black, and his clothes -- well barring the strips of silver -- were actually quite sensible, perhaps even attractive. The hair was another matter, but it would be back to normal in a few days. All things considered, he did look rather impressive.  
  
'You look like a fag.'  
  
"Well, I am one. So it's fitting I guess." He turned and strode out of the bathroom, Duo Maxwell his target. Dancing couldn't be that hard. He'd mastered over two dozen of his forms; he could certainly dance for a night.   
  
Besides, it wasn't like he had any pride to cling to or salvage. That had all been stripped from him a year ago.  
  
**3d. Duo**  
  
We just met  
And I know I'm a bit too intimate  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality"_  
  
Much to Duo's delight, the kid could dance -- just not really in any style he was accustomed to. He found himself laughing and attempting to imitate the blond boy's jubilant and carefree movements. This young man didn't dance to be sexy and he certainly didn't dance to impress anyone. He did it for the sheer joy of moving; stretching his body, testing it and enjoying the freedom of motion that only the truly athletic possessed. He jumped, turned and bent his lithe frame in time to the music -- an old techno tune that Duo recognized from a German movie -- radiant smile never leaving his angelic face. Duo grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer, resting a hand at the small of his back, pressing lightly against the sweaty t-shirt.   
  
"I've never seen anyone move like you," he shouted into the boy's ear. "You're amazing!"  
  
"Thanks!" the boy yelled back. His blond hair flew around his head in a gold haze when he moved and stuck out like a scarecrow's when he stood still. Duo was enchanted.  
  
He leaned in close, brushing his lips against the boy's earlobe. "You're beautiful." He watched the youth turn bright red and grinned.  
  
"So are you," he shouted, spinning away from Duo and right into a very startled Wufei. They caught each other easily, the young man twirling Wufei around in a wild arc. Duo laughed and gracefully cut in, grabbing his dark-haired friend around the waist and pulling their bodies together.  
  
"Meet our boy, Wu. He's a quite a looker, doncha think?" Duo heard Wufei mutter something under his breath and felt lean muscles try to escape their tight embrace. In that moment, Duo decided he liked how the dragon's body felt flush against this. He also enjoyed the glare shot his way as his arms tightened around that narrow waist.  
  
Then the blond boy was back in his field of vision, a ball of kinetic energy. Duo released Wufei and threw his arm around their target. "Wufei, let me introduce you to my new friend, Quatre Winner." The youth stopped moving for the length of time it took give Wufei a delicate bow before bouncing back into the song.  
  
Duo watched the dragon's mouth quirk upwards in a surprised smile. The kid's exuberance was infectious. Then his expression abruptly changed and he turned surprised black eyes on him.   
  
"Winner?" he mouthed, eyebrows knit together in the beginnings of a frown. Duo nodded and beckoned Wufei closer.  
  
"You bet, buddy," he said into his friend's ear. Again he circled his arms around Wufei's waist and drew that tense body into the steady pulse of the music. Their hips moved together, weight shifting on the downbeat. Warm breath puffed in Duo's ear and when he drew back slightly, he saw a look of intense concentration pulling his friend's striking features into an intimidating scowl. Wufei's friendship was not for the faint of heart. Pretty much anyone but himself, Heero, and Trowa would have run screaming had a look like that been in their direction. But Duo knew he was just making sure he had the feel of the music down.  
  
Finally, when it looked like he had a firm grasp on their movements, Wufei looked up to meet Duo's gaze. "Quatre Winner, as in Winner, Winner? The richest family in town, Winner?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"What could they possibly be negotiating with our Family? They've got a clean record, right?"  
  
"Dunno, Wu, but this kid's due to inherit. He's worth millions."  
  
Wufei glanced around quickly, scanning the crowd. "Where's his-"  
  
"Posse? I thought the same thing. And I asked him, but he said he's here on his own until his family's done with the meeting."  
  
Wufei frowned. "That doesn't seem right. I wouldn't let him out of my sight if he were the heir to a fortune like the theirs."  
  
Duo nodded. "I know, right? Methinks something has gone awry within the Winner family. The meeting's with Quatre's father and older sisters, but from what I've heard Dad's a few cards short of a full deck. He's almost 80 and about ready to buy the farm, as it were."  
  
"Quatre should be at that meeting."  
  
"You're tellin' me. But we're just supposed to keep him happy until it's over."  
  
"What are you two talking about?" Quatre asked innocently, returning in a wild flurry of arms and hair. His breath came in short puffs of air, warming their faces. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat.  
  
"Just how lucky we both are to have the honor of dancing with you," Duo said with a grand arm gesture.  
  
Quatre's smile got bigger, if that was possible and he gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. "I'm having so much fun!" he shouted. "My sisters should come here for meetings more often." Duo locked eyes with Wufei and look of worry passed between them, Duo's sense of unease ratcheting up a few notches. Something wasn't right, here.   
  
Then the music changed and he shouted, "I love this song!" pulling them both into a frantic dance that had the entire place jumping up and down.


	4. The Club, 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**4a. Heero**  
  
It takes courage   
To enjoy it  
The hardcore and the gentle  
Big-time sensuality  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality"_  
  
Heero watched the seething mass of people move as one body when the music changed to a song they all knew. And even he, disinclined as he was to dance, felt the need to move with them.  
  
And now, so did the girl he'd been talking up. And even though he really didn't want to do it, he knew it'd be easier than trying to maintain a conversation. He knew his body's abilities, new how to fight. That should afford him some semblance of rhythm, right? He found himself nodding to the girl's request.   
  
The girl. She had a name. Maribel. And in all honesty, keeping up a conversation had been easy mainly because he hadn't had to do anything but nod and grunt. She hadn't shut up since he'd offered to buy her a drink several hours ago. So, he hadn't really had to talk much, but he didn't want her asking any more questions; he'd made up enough about his life as it was. Heero Yuy. Yes, I'm a senior at university, studying computer security systems. My family? My mother was from London, my dad's from Nagasaki. She's a teacher. He's a defense contractor. I have a dog name Sparkey. Oh, yes, the Prime Minister is rubbish. Blah, blah, blah.   
  
As they waded into the crowd, fingers entwined, Heero spotted Wufei and Duo dancing with their target, Quatre Winner. They appeared to be having a good time, even Wufei. The young man had one arm resting on Duo's shoulder, the other on his waist, their bodies moving almost joyfully to the thudding beat. It was one of Duo's favorite songs, he knew, one about risks and fear and something about sensuality.  
  
Heero did not care about clothes or make up or appearances at all, really, but he had to admit that Wufei made a striking figure; all sinew and dark, lethal grace. This was not a context in which Heero was used to seeing the fiery dragon. He was intrigued and instantly reminded of the one and only time they had tested each other's fighting styles at the gym. That brutal and brief spar in the small dojo had been educational and... exciting. Heero knew within seconds that Chang was a killer; he could tell by the ease with which he moved, the confidence he possessed and the absolute control he had over his body. He had taken lives before. Heero did not find this fact frightening, just... something more to know about Chang. Something to file away, something added to this person that shared a living space with Duo and himself.  
  
All three of them made eye contact, just long enough to signal that all was well for the moment and then Heero jerked his attention back to Maribel. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and was swaying slim hips in time with the song. He watched her for a few seconds before following suit. Resting his hands awkwardly on those hips, he let her lead. Trying not to make eye contact, he watched the rest of her, marveled at her curves, the places where she was soft. So different from the majority of his clients, so different from the hard angles of a man's body.  
  
She spun around, her skirt flying up a bit high for Heero's taste. He'd almost seen her underwear. And then her back was pressed to him and he felt her curves much more intimately. His eyes widened and then he nearly laughed out loud. He, Heero Yuy, was a sex worker. That was his job title. He got people off and let them get him off for a living, and here he was, flustered by this girl's fully clothed ass in his crotch. Well, he was used to men, and when he worked, he tended to keep his mind as far away from what was happening to his body as possible. This... was much more intimate, somehow. This girl was pretty much sex in a little skirt so far as he could tell, but she seemed perfectly pure and innocent by her own standards. At least that's what she'd told him -- she didn't come here often, only for Daddy's meetings; he was such a nice boy; did he want to come back to her house after the meeting was over? Right. This whole dancing business was quite confusing.   
  
The music slowed down and she turned around again, wrapping her arms around his neck. The beat throbbed lazily, vibrating in his ribs. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. Again he blinked in surprise. He was completely unfamiliar with this amount of intimacy while he still had clothes on. He caught Duo's eye as he dipped Quatre, the blond boy's eyes wide with delight. Duo smiled at Heero's obvious discomfort and winked his encouragement before pulling Quatre back against him. Heero scowled over Maribel's head. How did Duo make it look so easy? Every move he made was lissome and graceful; everything he said appropriate and amusing.   
  
And now, watching him sweep Quatre off his feet and win him over with his charm, Heero felt familiar, yet still completely baffling ribbons of... _wanting_ thread up his spine and between his legs. He felt it tangle in his gut, an acute need to be _with_ Duo. Right then. To be the one touching him and spinning him around. Heero knew that Duo was working; this was his 'on-the-job' persona. He wanted to make it real. He wanted to see that small, half smile that came out only for him. The intensity of his need startled him, as it always did, and felt like a clenched fist in his chest. He didn't want some skinny girl's breasts heaving in his face. And, god, he certainly didn't want sex. He wanted smooth pale skin, pulled tight over wiry, strong muscles. And he wanted a thick rope of hair he could wrap around his fist.   
  
As he did every time these feelings wound their way through his muscles and his digestive system, Heero tried to figure them out, to nail them down. He allowed Maribel to lead him around the floor -- it seemed to come naturally; she'd been leading all night -- and let his brain drift over possible explanations for his sudden and uncontrollable bouts of... need. He'd known Duo for -- he didn't know how many years. They'd grown up together. Duo was his only real friend. He protected Duo. Duo watched his back. They worked together, had been in the same room when-   
  
They had seen each other naked, vulnerable, compromised, humiliated. He shook his head slightly. No, Duo had never appeared to be humiliated. It was all so easy for him. He could just shake it off, walk it off, laugh it off. Heero, on the other hand, had to ruthlessly shut down his urge to break bones when anyone touched him. But he did it, five or six days a week, he did it, went out with Duo and got paid for sex. They'd both been there when one or the other had gotten a truly horrible troll, when contact with a person they actually liked was the only thing that kept them from screaming or vomiting or hurting themselves or someone else. Heero needed Duo if he was going to survive this job. And he wasn't leaving the job without Duo.   
  
So... their relationship made perfect sense to him. It was logical and necessary. But sometimes it didn't seem like enough. Was that it? Did he need more from Duo? That didn't seem fair. How could he ask more from his best friend? He couldn't.   
  
But maybe what he wanted wasn't actually anything more than what they already had -- if it was extension of their friendship. Heero knew sex. And he knew that sex with Duo would be... one of the most important events in his life. It would be very different from sex with other men. But Heero didn't understand friendship outside of what he had with Duo. He didn't know how friends...acted. Could sex be part of a friendship, or was that asking too much? Did he want Duo as _his?_ He found his friend again, watched him press his hips into the boy's. Quatre blushed and leapt back, nimbly dodging Duo's attempts to catch his hands. Sex was Duo's job. Perhaps it didn't belong in a friendship.   
  
A few feet away, Wufei danced with another young man, one not a part of the assignment. But Wufei wasn't paying much attention to that boy. His eyes never left Duo. He followed every move. He was even imitating those movements, probably subconsciously. He adapted them to his own abilities and became almost visibly more sure of himself as he went. This made Heero uneasy for a reason he could not yet identify. But he could not take more time to think about it, because Maribel was pulling him off the dance floor and toward the bar. And she was talking again.  
  
**4b. Trowa**  
  
But something huge is coming up  
And we're both included  
_\- "Big Time Sensuality"_  
  
The night passed slowly for Trowa. He sat at the bar with his assigned target -- a lovely young woman named Ana -- and spoke at great length about his time with the circus, a story he'd made up on the spot to keep her interested and to keep her questions far away from what he'd actually done with his 22 years thus far. Yes, he worked with the lions. No, he never got bit; they liked him. He got along with animals better than people more often than not. Except for her of course. He found that he could talk to her very easily. She'd loved that line, had blushed and smiled and touched his arm, cool fingers running along his bicep. He knew that if he wanted, he could take her out behind the club and fuck her until she saw stars, could get her to love him even after he broke her heart. He toyed with the idea, but eventually rejected it. She was attractive -- slender and dark with long black hair braided into hundreds of tiny ropes. He would have liked to see her bend under his touch, writhe and pant, breathing his name just as he made her come. He liked sex with women, loved their skin and their hair. And he loved their hips, round and soft. He was very close to suggesting they step outside, even though, tonight, he wasn't getting paid to sleep with this woman.   
  
But then he spotted Duo and Wufei amidst the throngs of people making idiots of themselves on the dance floor. Once again he admired the way Wufei had turned from a rather bitter and self-conscious boy to an exotic and striking dragon, still extremely volatile and dangerous, but now tantalizingly so. He also wondered at the glances Wufei snuck at Duo, his painted eyes hooded but nevertheless watchful and...definitely curious. He smiled to himself, seeing that Duo was having a great time and enjoying the company of -- what was his name? oh yes -- Quatre Winner. Millionaire heir and... Trowa felt his heart do something it had not done in probably 10 years. He swallowed thickly and tried to slow it down. It was deafening in his ears, louder than the music. Quatre Winner. His green eyes narrowed as he focused on the young man. He temporarily forgot Ana, instead watching this pale, bright boy bend and twist and jump and spin and just _move_ in a way that Trowa had never seen. He couldn't take his eyes off that slim body. The boy's white t-shirt clung to his small frame, damp with sweat. His brown corduroys hung low on his waist, sometimes revealing a pale strip of skin and a knobby back bone. He was... well, he was the most...   
  
Trowa's train of thought was abruptly cut off as one of the Boss's muscle appeared to his right and grabbed a hold of his arm, roughly pulling him from the barstool. He frowned and glanced at Ana to see her eyes widen and her mouth fall open in shock.   
  
"Time to go," the big man muttered in his ear, dragging him away from the bar and from Ana.   
  
She shouted, "Hey!" but Trowa was already stumbling away, concentrating on keeping his feet under him. He let the muscle drag him, knew that he'd only be punished for dislocating the giant's shoulder and saying in his slightly accented English, "I can walk myself, dickhead." He didn't look back at Ana, instead craning his neck to find the others. Directly ahead of him, he saw Heero being led away in a similar fashion, his mouth turned down slightly in a small frown. Heero's target, Maribel, did not look pleased. Almost frantically, he searched for the other two, and then, for the second time in 10 years, his heart clenched and thudded in his chest. He saw Wufei shoved forward by one of the Boss's bodyguards, the dragon giving any onlookers his best scowl. Behind him, Trowa saw Duo and Quatre, trying to keep a hold of each other as another bodyguard tried to pull them apart. But... Quatre was being pushed along with them. They were all exiting the club, stumbling and cursing. One of the muscle threw Quatre over his shoulder, carrying him as though he weighed as much as a doll. Trowa examined Quatre's face, saw slight panic and fear there. But it was gone in the next moment, replaced with a calculating and watchful stare. This boy would not let his fear rule him; Trowa could see that instantly.   
  
They all piled into the car waiting for them, the doors slamming shut, and the car quickly pulling out of its space. "What the fuck was that!" Duo shouted indignantly. "You could have just told us it was time to leave. We would have walked out on our own." The driver, another bodyguard, didn't respond. Quatre, seated between Duo and Wufei, curled up into a ball, knees drawn up to his chest, fists clenched, bright eyes closed.   
  
From his place in the front seat, squeezed in with Heero, Trowa saw Wufei run his black eyes over the hunched body next to him. "Why is he here?" the dragon growled. The driver still said nothing. Trowa, his expression detached and blank, his heart still annoyingly loud in his ears, tentatively laid his hand on the boy's knee. He removed it quickly when the boy flinched away.   
  
"Quatre," he said softly. "Quatre, are you alright?" No response. "Quatre-"  
  
"Shut up!" The boy looked up, bright blue eyes spitting fire. "How do you know my name? I don't know who you are! I don't know any of you. Least of all you!" he shouted accusingly at Duo. "You can't just grab somebody and throw them in an unfamiliar car. That's kidnapping and it's illegal!" He paused. "Are you kidnapping me?" Trowa felt that something was off. He knew that Quatre was afraid. Hell, he should be. But his shouting, his open fear, didn't feel genuine. Was he faking? "My family won't stand for it. My sisters will come for me!" The driver snorted and shook his head. They all looked at him sharply, but he didn't volunteer any more than that. "Do you even know who I am?" He puffed out his small chest, and again Trowa was struck with a sense of falsehood. This was a display.   
  
No one spoke for several seconds. Finally, Duo sighed, answering quietly, "Of course we know who you are. I'm guessing that 'who you are' is exactly why you're in the car with us right now. But beyond that, we're as clueless as you."   
  
He's not clueless, Trowa thought.  
  
"Except for no-neck in the driver's seat, and he's not volunteering any info," Duo continued.  
  
"Why should I believe you?"  
  
Duo looked Quatre straight in the eye. "You have absolutely no reason to. I can only tell you that we, the four of us, we're not gonna hurt you. You're in no danger from us." Trowa hoped he was right. When it came to the workings of the Family, he tended to steer clear. The same went for Duo and Wufei. Only Heero concerned himself with that dangerous hierarchy -- thus far to no great success. If they didn't want him in, he wouldn't be. And Trowa was glad of their ignorance. People tended to "disappear" when they knew too much. So, he didn't know what was in store for this kid. But judging by the fuss made about that meeting and the very fact that Quatre had been excluded from it, it didn't look good.  
  
The car stopped at a red light and everyone was silent and still. Then, faster than a flicker of sunshine, Quatre was out the rear driver's side door and in the street. Duo and Trowa sucked in a sharp breath. Heero frowned and Wufei groaned, "Very bad move." The driver was out of the car before he'd finished that sentence. None of them were surprised at how fast the muscle moved. Quatre didn't stand a chance. The driver grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the pavement. The boy's voice cracked as he cried out in fear and pain. In the next second the driver hauled him up and practically threw him into the back seat. Duo and Wufei both refrained from touching him, and the boy curled up into a ball again, blood from his cut elbow dripping onto the upholstery. He hid his stinging cheek in his arms, bits of gravel embedded in the skin. The whole ordeal had lasted about 15 seconds. But before they started moving again, the driver motioned for Trowa to get out of the front seat.   
  
"In the back with the others," he grunted. "Hold him down." Trowa complied immediately, both he and Heero getting out, Heero sliding back into the front seat only to find the rear end of a handgun almost hitting his nose. "Take this," the driver continued. "Make sure he doesn't do that again." Nodding once, Heero waited for Trowa to get into the back seat with the rest of them before taking the gun. The Frenchman saw his lip curl slightly. Heero Yuy, along with the rest of them, had a very healthy fear of guns, and an even stronger distaste for them. Death should not be dealt so easily from the hands of cowards. Heero did not look pleased to be holding such a weapon.  
  
The car started moving again. Apologizing softly, Trowa climbed over Wufei's lap and, taking hold of Quatre's shoulders, pulled him close, pinning his arms to his sides. The boy's muscles felt like steel bands, coiled so tightly that he seemed ready to spring at any moment. But as they drove, he didn't move again. Trowa sucked in a slow deep breath and tried to calm his jangled nerves. This was most unusual.   
  
"Please don't try anything like that again," he murmured. "He will hurt you." The driver turned on the radio -- some abrasive, grinding metal garbage. All five of them flinched but remained silent. Even Duo knew when to stay quiet. Trowa continued to speak quietly into Quatre's ear, now that no one could hear him over the music. "I'm sorry this is happening to you. I wish I knew what was going on. I would tell you. And we will tell you as soon as we know anything. If you have a choice, you should stay with us, because we will not hurt you. I can't vouch for the rest of the family. Something happened at the meeting with your sisters. My Family has taken you and we, the four of us, will offer you protection if we can. Duo didn't mean for this to happen. He didn't know you were coming with us, so don't be too upset with him. Just keep breathing and when we get to our flat, we'll figure all this out." As he spoke, Quatre's muscles slowly began to relax. The young man leaned back into Trowa's chest and took a few deep breaths. Heero, who hadn't taken the safety off the gun, gave a quiet sigh of relief. It didn't look like he'd need to.  
  
**4c. Duo**  
  
I'll tell you why I don't want to know where you are  
I got a joke I been dying to tell you  
A silent kid is looking down the barrel  
To make the noise that I kept so quiet  
_\- "Pitselah" Elliott Smith_  
  
Duo lay in bed, flat on his back, utterly exhausted. But his brain was going full speed over the events of the last few hours. His gut twisted with guilt every time he remembered Quatre's wounded and betrayed expression. It had been directed at him, and he'd deserved it.  
  
"Heero?" he whispered. "Are you still awake?" A groan from across the room and "I'm awake _again"_ was his response. "What do you think's gonna happen to that kid?" Duo could hear his best friend roll over to face him.  
  
"In the long run, don't know," he answered, voice thick with sleep. "After you all went inside, the driver told me that we're supposed to look after him for the foreseeable future."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"He's one of us now."  
  
"He's gonna start turning tricks?"  
  
A mumbled grunt in the affirmative.  
  
"Are you kidding? The kid's as innocent as they come. He won't last two days."  
  
"That's what I said." Finally, Heero sat up and even in the dim light of the bedroom, Duo saw him run his fingers through tangled brown hair. "But his family abandoned him. His sisters want the Winner estate. They don't think it's fair that the youngest inherits all that money and property. So, instead of just killing him, they wanted him to disappear. They wanted him out of sight and protected until Winner, Sr. dies."  
  
"That's the most absurd and stupid idea I've ever heard," Duo stated flatly. "Put him with a bunch of hustlers? That's protected? We won't be able to keep him safe. He'll get out. Then what will his family do?"   
  
"I don't think they knew what position he'd have within the Family, just that he'd be kept here and hidden until it's safe for him to be released. If he goes back to the Winners now, he'll be killed. They'll make it look like an accident."  
  
"So the Boss just _decided_ to stick him with us?" Duo shook his head at the ceiling. "He really is a twisted little man." Heero grunted, noncommittally. "I think we should try to help him. We owe him that."  
  
Heero shook his head. "We owe him nothing. It's not our fault his family did this to him."  
  
"But I treated him like a john," Duo said quietly. He'd been a conquest, a game.  
  
"He was."  
  
"He's not anymore. I violated his trust."  
  
"His family did first."  
  
"Rationalize it if you want," Duo murmured, hooking his fingers together behind his head. "But remember how scared we both were when we started this job a year ago. Remember that if we hadn't been there for each other..." He saw Heero shudder and knew he didn't need a reminder. They'd worked as a team from the beginning and Duo vividly recalled the times they had both run out of a hotel rooms, only to stumble to the sidewalk and vomit everything they'd just swallowed. He could still feel the grip of Heero's hand in his as they waited at the bus stop, desperate to just get home. He remembered Heero's dried tear tracks down his cheeks, remembered thinking he must have cried too as they walked stiffly back to the flat. Right after those first few times, they'd barely been able to sit down. Duo remembered their first tests, sitting, waiting for the results, praying that they hadn't picked up something in their first month on the job. Duo knew that Heero wanted to protect him from the Boss, from the worst johns, from all the people who judged them just by looking at their clothes. But Duo didn't need his protection, not that kind anyway. He handled the tough tricks more often than not. He needed a friend, an equal. And Heero was that to him.  
  
The Japanese man got out of bed and stepped soundlessly across the carpet, stopping at Duo's bedside. He knelt down and Duo sat up, eyes searching for Heero's in the dark. They looked at each other, unable to make out expressions but aware of the tension in the air between them.   
  
"You're right, Duo. He will need help. However, I think he will go to Trowa for that help, rather than you or me. I think that we need to concentrate on living past our 21st birthday."  
  
Duo forced some cheer that he didn't feel into his voice. "I'm livin' well, Ro. I'm doin' just fine." He winced at how fake that sounded. "We've got it pretty good here. We have food and a place to live. We have friends. We could still be out on the street stealing." To his own ears he was trying to convince himself.   
  
Heero nodded and looked down at his hands. "We need to focus on surviving," he said again. "And for me, that means moving up in the family. I don't- really like what we do." Duo snorted, a sharp humorless sound. "And I hate knowing that I can't always keep you safe because of- how our job is. But you don't need my help, because you're better at taking care of yourself than I am."  
  
"Heero-" Duo started to protest, but his best friend plowed ahead.  
  
"I've been thinking the past few hours. The Boss...why we're all together here in this place. The five of us are different from the rest of the family. Wufei and me and Trowa, too. We're better suited for fighting. And you, you're the same. Quatre... I don't know. I watched him move. He's young and untrained, but he's the same. We're all here together now." Duo knew that Heero's brain was crunching through its methodical gears when he started repeating himself. He held his breath as his friend continued to work through his train of thought. "And I can't figure out why Gael would do that... throw five potentially lethal people together under one roof. In the business he runs, we should be his weapons, not his whores. He's either got something in mind, some plan, or..." Heero looked right into Duo's eyes. "Or he's making a mistake that will get him killed."  
  
Duo breathed out, a warm puff of air on Heero's face. "You're scaring me a little, buddy. A) You rarely talk this much and B) I think you just drew a line in the sand." He thought he saw Heero smirk.   
  
"A big fat one."  
  
"That's heavy, man," Duo said, shaking his head. "That kinda talk will get you killed, or 'disappeared,' more accurately."  
  
"I know that," he murmured. "But I have to set out my priorities. Now, I just have to figure out his. But until then, my job -- the job I have to focus on if I'm going to live through all this -- is keeping us safe." Duo opened his mouth to interrupt, to tell Heero that he didn't need a guardian, but he cut himself off. "I've drawn my line in the sand. And all five of us are on one side. That's not an accident. The Boss isn't stupid. But I will use this opportunity." He sucked in a slow deep breath. "And I wanted you to know, because we- you and I are-" Heero hesitated and Duo could sense the words about to fall from his best friend's lips.   
  
"We're what, Heero?" he asked, his voice barely audible.  
  
"We are... the same. We have the same history, and I know that we need to be together in this."  
  
Duo swallowed thickly. In the many years that they'd known each other, Heero had pretty much kept to himself. And he certainly didn't make a habit of expressing his feelings to Duo. He'd just... always been there. It was his job -- that's how he'd put it. They were best friends, a team, but that didn't mean they shared their inner-most thoughts and heart-felt desires. This Heero, the talking, confessing, strategizing Heero was a new animal. Duo would have to investigate the reason for this shift. Perhaps it was just that Heero was fed up with the hustling gig and wanted Duo to know, or maybe their dynamic was changing, developing, expanding.   
  
He realized suddenly that Heero was waiting for him to respond, and he swallowed again, well aware of how difficult this was for Heero, how hard it was for him to lay down his hand. "Hey, Ro. You know I'm with you." He casually reached out to touch his friend's arm and instead found himself wrapping long fingers around a steely bicep. "You know you've got me, that you've had me."  
  
They both froze at these words, Duo surprised at his own bluntness. He usually played his feelings a little closer to his chest. He didn't usually --   
  
Heero got quickly to his feet, then, pulling his arm out of Duo's grip, leaving him to look up from where he sat on the bed, confusion and embarrassment warring for the dominant expression. Frowning, Duo and looked down at his hands, then quickly at his best friend's retreating back. He ran long fingers threw his bangs and fell back on his pillow, feeling more exhausted than ever.


	5. Watched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**5\. Heero**

I'll be down, kickin' on the ground  
To make you see that you're the same as me  
This is what you are  
I get ripped apart  
Pick it up and take it home again  
_\- "American Special" Tugboat Annie_  
  
He knew someone was following him, could feel it on the back of his neck and in his shoulders. This was not new, and he was not afraid. But his heart rate quickened anyway. He knew what was about to happen, knew the risk was higher for these meeting when he was by himself. But he couldn't be with Duo all the time. And he felt capable of going out for groceries by himself. He did it regularly, most of the time without incident.   
  
Well, today, his luck had run out. He spotted Cecile up ahead, seated at a little bistro, sipping daintily from a cappuccino. Her long blond hair was, as usual, wound around her head like a crown, lending her a regal and sophisticated air. Heero thought she looked ridiculous, and since he knew she was a cold, slightly crazy, drama queen, the look was lost on him. As he approached, grocery list in hand, she gracefully rose from her chair, resting her long, bony hands on slim hips. She took one seemingly casual step forward, and Heero stopped. He looked her up and down quickly. If she was armed, she was very good at hiding it, because neither her clinging white t-shirt nor her second-skin-like white trousers appeared to have any room, even for a nail file.  
  
"Bon jour," she called.  
  
Heero nodded once in greeting. They stood facing each other for several seconds, neither speaking, until finally, Heero jabbed the grocery list forward like it was his switchblade. To his satisfaction, Cecile flinched. While their encounters tended to be brief and violent -- Heero always outnumbered and resigned to another meeting with Gael, Cecile perpetually smug, always annoying and sometimes downright frightening -- she knew that he wasn't a man to be taken lightly. If it weren't for the ten other muscle who accompanied her, Heero could kill her. He saw this in her expression now, as her eyes darted to the list and back up to his face.  
  
"Fish, rice, cabbage, broccoli, oranges, and Doritos for Duo. That's all I want. I don't want any trouble. I just need to go to the store." This approach never worked with Cecile, but it was worth a shot. And, anyway, he never left the apartment armed only with a grocery list. She smirked at him, arching a graceful eyebrow. Then, turning on her heal, she marched away from him, expecting him to follow. He glanced over his shoulder and seeing that he was now backed by six of the aforementioned ten muscle, he tried to shrug some of the tension out of his muscles, and started after her. Maybe if he didn't fight back, this wouldn't last too long.  
  
They always ended up on a rooftop, whether it was of some dump apartment building or in a rooftop garden, or on top of some posh hotel. Heero always found himself looking down over at least a 10 story drop. No difference today. Gael was waiting for him to arrive, his long, lean body perched atop a chimney stack, legs swinging carelessly. Heero found himself hoping that he'd get soot all over his ass. Childish, he knew, but he wasn't particularly concerned at the moment with the age-appropriateness of his musings. He'd be bleeding in a few minutes. He was more concerned about that. The bodyguards corralled him up against the edge of the roof, as always, keeping his heals within centimeters of an untimely death. When Heero felt thoroughly uncomfortable and unbalanced, Gael finally leapt down from the chimney -- ass immaculate of course -- and approached the cornered youth.   
  
Heero knew that by most people's standards, Gael was an attractive man -- tall and fit with lean, strong shoulders and a narrow waist. He had dark hair that he kept somewhat long, swirled and slicked into a close cousin of the pompadour. He had no facial hair, a hawk-beak nose and amber colored eyes that glowed in the sunlight. He was young, probably in his late 20s, and during their rooftop meetings his personality alternated between the coolly threatening drug lord and an over-excited teenager. Heero found these changes baffling and extremely disconcerting. And he found Gael repulsive.  
  
As his boss approached, Heero tried to guess which personality he would encounter first. From the looks of it, Cecile was looking for the same information: she stood off to the side, watching the whole thing with her predatory green eyes narrowed. Heero guessed she was jealous, knew that she was more than Gael's chief bodyguard. 'You can have him,' Heero thought, eyes returning to the taller man who now leaned suggestively over him. Heero swallowed and stood his ground; he had nowhere to go.   
  
"How's tricks, Heero?" Gael asked, a faint Spanish accent tinting his words and lending them a sibilance that made Heero twitchy.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Any particularly nasty boys to deal with?"  
  
Dark blue eyes narrowed. "A few. More than we'd like."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Duo and me."  
  
Gael frowned and turned away in a huff. He'd never liked Duo. Heero thought that their boss picked the worst men for Duo out of spite.   
  
And then he knew which Gael he was dealing with today. 'Teenagers,' he thought wearily. He watched the Boss pace back and forth across the roof, fingers interlaced at the back of his neck.  
  
"How's the young Winner heir managing?" he asked finally, turning back, a smile tugging at his lips.  
  
Heero shrugged noncommittally. "As well as can be expected. He doesn't freak out much. Still thinks his sisters will come for him."  
  
"I can assure you they won't. They made it perfectly clear that he is to disappear until Winner, Sr. expires, with an altered will insuring that the eldest daughter inherits."  
  
Heero rubbed his elbow with a rough palm. He didn't want to encourage conversation with Gael -- indeed preferred to avoid it at all costs -- but this had been bugging him. "Here's something I don't get. Putting him out on the street, peddling him to rich and powerful men...he'll be recognized. And if it comes out that the legitimate Winner heir was cast off by his own family, essentially traded into a prostitution house... the bad press that would generate would be crippling."  
  
Gael gave him a conspiratorial smile. "That's what I told them. And as much as I'd love to see the Winner image smeared, I felt it was incumbents upon me to warn them of that risk."  
  
"Ever the good Samaritan," Heero muttered, eyes widening slightly at his own audacity. He'd been friends with Duo for too long.  
  
But the Boss took it as a compliment, stalking closer to Heero, arms now crossed over his chest. "It's true. Sometimes my kindness and understanding knows no bounds. I amaze even myself." He now stood only a few centimeters from his prey. Heero hated this part, when he had to concentrate almost entirely on stilling the reflex to shove Gael away from him, shove him hard enough to break a couple bones. Somehow he managed each time. It helped to picture the consequences of his actions. If he hurt Gael, the repercussions would be swift and brutal, not just to himself. That beating he could take. But Duo...   
  
The Boss was still talking. "Anyway, long story short, I promised the lovely Winner sisters that their youngest brother would have a low-profile position within my family. He'd be kept out of sight and would not encounter anyone whose circles the Winners moved in. In other words, he'll get all the low-life clients I'd like to cut from the rolls, but never had the heart to." Heero gritted his teeth and fought down the knee-jerk anger and heart-break stabbing through him on Quatre's behalf. Sure the kid was from another world, and up until a few weeks ago, Heero wouldn't have had two words to say to him, but... they were on the same side now. And what his family had done was wrong.  
  
"But enough about other people." Gael murmured into Heero's ear. "Let's talk about us."  
  
'Here we go.' The Boss's large hands began to roam along Heero's body, hovering the slimmest distance from skin. Heero shuddered and turned his head away as Gael's breath puffed against his neck and traveled up to his left ear. 'Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me.' And so far, in their bi-monthly meetings on rooftops, Gael had not touched him, had promised not to until Heero gave him permission -- which he never would.  
  
"Have you thought any more about my offer?" the older man purred into his ear.  
  
Heero swallowed hard, knowing what was about to happen. "Yes," he hissed.  
  
"And?" Those large hands lifted up his t-shirt and then let it slide back down along his ribs. It felt as vile as a caress, though it was only his own shirt.  
  
"I want you..."  
  
"Yes...?"  
  
"To get out of my face."   
  
Gael backed off a bit, his handsome features turned down in a pout. "That's your choice?"   
  
"As always."  
  
"Fine." He turned away and stalked off, moodily standing to the side with Cecile, who looked pleased as punch that Heero had rejected him yet again.  
  
In the next moment, several pairs of rough hands pulled and pushed him away from the edge of the roof. He stumbled once and almost went down on one knee, but then adrenalin and reflex took over, filling his blood and his brain with familiar drums. He twisted his arms out of their grasp and dodged between the men surrounding him. He could tell that these bodyguards didn't want to fight him. He looked on them with something approaching pity. They always ended up with broken bones and a few minor to moderate lacerations when they took on Heero Yuy after a rooftop meeting. Occasionally he wondered why the Boss would put them through this every time. Perhaps it was to keep the bodyguards sharp. Maybe it was to keep Heero himself sharp. Or maybe Gael liked to see him bleed. And he always did. The fight wasn't over until he did. First blood ended it. Some days he fought hard enough to keep them at bay for almost an hour. Others, he let them take him in under five minutes.  
  
Today, he was leaning more toward the latter. He had groceries to get. His switchblade open and in-hand, Heero took a few steps forward, swinging the blade in tight vicious arcs. A few men fell back while the others circled around behind him. Keeping all of them out of his blind spot was more than he could handle, so after ducking a few shots at his head, he went down low and sprang up under their guard, taking out two with the heavy handle of his knife. As they dropped, he spun and slashed at two more coming up behind him. Dark blood blossomed through their shirts and they fell back. Six of the ten remained, a few glaring at him, the rest shooting beseeching glances at the Boss, who still looked pissed. They wanted this to end as much as Heero did.   
  
Finally, with a look from Gael, Cecile stepped forward, drawing a slender blade from along her spine. She grinned at him and approached slowly. Knowing that the sooner he bled the sooner he could go home, he let the remaining bodyguards rush him. He went down hard, under their combined weight, both elbows taking most of the fall. Once they had him down, they worked quickly. They each took a limb, with two at each leg. Fighting down the panic that inevitably rose in his throat whenever he was pinned and helpless, Heero bucked against their hold on him, even though he knew he should relax.   
  
Cecile knelt down beside him, cooing soft words that Heero didn't understand. His French had never been as good as Duo's. She ran her hands along his body, feeling out the scars she had already given him. A few were doozies. Most were easy to hide. Then with frightening precision, she slid the blade along his exposed hip bone, bright red blood immediately flooding along the knife and soaking the top of his jeans. His body jerked upward, instinctively curling in on itself, trying to protect the wound. In the next moment, the muscle released him and backed away, more than a few looking thoroughly shaken. Heero didn't blame them; he felt pretty shaky himself. Then they left him there with the psychotic blonde bitch and his boss. Cecile ran her fingers along the shallow slice she'd just given him, gazing raptly at the blood dripping down her palm. Gael stared at it too, until he sharply shook his head and took a step back. Then he looked upon the whole scene with distaste, turning and swiftly making his way toward the stares. Cecile followed reluctantly, but only after she'd cleaned her blade and wiped the blood from her fingers onto Heero's shirt.   
  
"Goodbye, mon petite," she murmured.  
  
Then he was alone.


	6. (Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**6\. Wufei**

Anything I want, he gives it to me  
Anything I want  
He gives it, but not for free  
_\- The Clash_  
  
Wufei strode purposefully toward the gym, eyes straight ahead. With his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair back in a tight ponytail, he made an imposing picture, and he knew it. Many watched him pass, but no one approached. He wasn't exactly dressed to be noticed, in black trackies and a white t-shirt, but his severe, angular features and slender build guaranteed that several would take a second glance.  
  
And one began to follow him. He kept a safe distance, stuck mainly to the shadows. He may have stayed concealed had his target been an ordinary 19-year-old kid, but he seriously underestimated Chang Wufei's predatory senses and his paranoia. When he followed his quarry around a corner into an alley, he prepared to make his move... only to find himself stopped by a razor-sharp knife pressed against his throat.  
  
Wufei stood poised, ready to strike a killing blow, black eyes narrowed and somehow looking down at the frightened young man even though his follower was several centimeters taller. "Yes?" he murmured dangerously, eyebrows raised in question.  
  
The young man swallowed carefully and backed up a step. "Wu- Wufei -- don't you remember me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"The, uh, club a few weeks ago. We danced together for awhile." The young man ran his fingers through black hair, cropped shorter than Wufei's, though under much less control. "But you left before I could, before we, you know..." The youth blushed.  
  
Wufei smirked. "Yes, I remember you. Before we what, exactly? And what's your name again?"  
  
"Kalvin," he answered quickly. He shrugged in embarrassment and then grinned. "You know, before we could hook up."  
  
Wufei stiffened and the smirk disappeared. "Well, I'm sorry, Kalvin, but that wasn't on the agenda."  
  
Kalvin shrugged again. "What are you doing now?"  
  
"Going to the gym."  
  
The youth licked his lips and tried to puff himself up a bit. "We could- well, you could get rid of some tension in another way."  
  
Wufei was having trouble deciding whether to be amused or insulted. He noticed the bulge in Kalvin's jeans, sighed and looked at his watch. Hell, he had time. "It'll cost you," he warned, testing the sharpness of his blade on his thumb.  
  
Kalvin suddenly looked nervous again. "What?"  
  
"I mean, you have to pay me money if you want me to have sex with you. That's how it works." He spoke as though to a slow child.  
  
Kalvin's brown eyes narrowed. "Are you a hustler or something?" Almost quicker than he could see, Wufei grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the rusty side of a dumpster.  
  
"Yes. I am. But you don't get to call me that."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Wufei released him and gave him a quick once-over, noted the quality of his clothing and the shape of his wallet in his back pocket. "So, Kalvin. What's the plan? Fuck on the dumpster?"  
  
"Well -- we could go to my place if you-"  
  
"I'm on my way to the gym. And I'm very particular about my routine. Fuck on the dumpster?"  
  
"H- how much?"  
  
"Hundred," came the automatic reply.  
  
Kalvin pulled out the wallet, quickly digging out a few bills. "I have 70. 72." He looked up, clearly worried. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't know that-"  
  
Wufei slid the strap over his head and dropped the bag in one fluid motion. In the next second, his knife disappeared somewhere into his trackies. Then he shoved Kalvin against the dumpster again, effectively cutting off whatever excuse he had for not having the money. He smothered Kalvin's breath with a cruel kiss, grinding his hips against the surprised but willing customer. He ruthlessly squashed the disgust and shame that rose up in him every time he did this, especially when he accepted less than his going rate. 'You sell your body not even to the highest bidder.' He growled low in his throat, trying to silence that persistent voice. Kalvin gave him an answering noise, a strangled groan of desire and pain as Wufei bit down on his neck.  
  
"Do you have a condom?" Kalvin gasped. "I wasn't planning on running into you."  
  
Wufei released him and almost snarled, "Of course," before opening his bag and pulling out the rubber and a tube of lubricant. Duo's cheeky voice echoed in his brain. "Never leave home without'em, Wu. You never know when you'll be workin'." In spite of himself, he blushed as he jerked down the waistband of his trackies and put on the condom. Kalvin quickly undid the button-fly of his jeans and stood ready, excitement, nervousness and something akin to fear written across his boyish features. Wufei felt feral pride at having inspired that expression. He nearly attacked his client when their bodies met again. He knew there'd be bruises; he might draw blood. But, he rationalized, the kid didn't have enough money. That meant they got to do things Wufei's way. And he had quite a bit of energy to work off. He had been on his way to the gym after all.  
  
"Put your arms over the top edge of the dumpster," he gritted into Kalvin's ear. The young man scrambled to comply, but wasn't strong enough to hold himself up for long. Wufei grabbed his legs, wrapping them around his hips. Kalvin locked them together in the back, bringing their bodies together in one sharp movement. The youth groaned and adjusted himself against the dumpster, jacket scraping loudly against the rusty surface. Wufei didn't take much time to prepare his customer. He wasn't trying to impress, didn't care if he ever saw this kid again -- hoped he wouldn't.  
  
Kalvin cried out with the first thrust -- both pain and pleasure -- but learned quickly that noise was unacceptable when Wufei clamped a hand firmly over his mouth. Neither said a word from then on, the only sounds cloth against metal and Kalvin's heavy irregular breathing. Wufei surrendered to the building pleasure radiating from his groin, knowing he wouldn't last long. But it didn't look like he'd need to as he watched Kalvin's dark eyes glaze over and his back arch outward. He watched the young man bend and gasp his way to orgasm and then go limp against the dumpster, body shivering with pleasure. Wufei gritted his teeth and finished a second later, shoulders shuddering. Then he stepped back, letting Kalvin collapse into a boneless heap on the pavement. Despite all his effort at self control, his head spun and his fingers trembled as they mechanically removed and tied off the condom. He tossed it into the conveniently located dumpster. 'Good spot for business,' he smirked.  
  
Within ten seconds, Wufei had the bag over his shoulder, his track pants in order, and 70 dollars -- he'd let the kid keep two in case he needed to catch a bus -- in his shoe. He didn't look back at the young man stumbling to his feet, longingly staring at his retreating back.


	7. (Quatre)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**7\. Quatre**

Overtime all the time  
Kill you faster than a bullet can  
You won't go  
Take myself from this  
Take my-  
I know I know I know I know  
I know I know I know  
_\- "American Special" Tugboat Annie_  
  
He watched from the doorway as Trowa patched up Heero's hurt, the former gentle but efficient, the latter stoic and still as a boulder. Quatre kept his winces to himself when he saw Trowa pull away the bloody gauze pads, held in place with masking tape.  
  
"Where did you find these bandages?" Trowa asked softly.  
  
"Fish market." The Frenchman looked up sharply, and Heero gave him a reassuring shake of his head. "I didn't get any fish slime in the cut. I just figured they'd have a good first aid kit."  
  
"I'm sure they would, but why didn't you go to hospital?"  
  
"I needed to buy fish."  
  
Quatre hid a smile behind his hand.  
  
"Why didn't you go after your got fish?"  
  
Heero gave Trowa the patented 'Oh, please' look. "The fish would have spoiled. And I had to get to the grocery store to buy vegetables and Doritos for Duo."  
  
Trowa gave him a small smile and shook his head. Quatre liked it when his new flat mates smiled. Only Duo did it on a regular basis, and Quatre wasn't quite ready to trust that one. But when Heero, Wufei or Trowa did it, he felt reassured, like if they could handle it, so could he.  
  
"Well, regardless I don't think you need stitches. It's very shallow. I'll go get the hydrogen peroxide." Trowa's dark green eyes locked with Quatre's bright blue in passing, and the blonde boy ducked his head in shy submission. Quiet and unassuming. Quiet and unassuming. Trowa was watching him, had been very closely these last few weeks. Quatre liked him, thought he was pleasant and attractive, wanted to know him better, but he didn't trust him. And he didn't like that he was being watched. He felt Heero's eyes on him and turned to meet that turbulent blue gaze. Quatre looked away almost immediately, ducking a little further back into the bedroom he shared with Trowa. And Heero turned his eyes as soon as Trowa emerged from the bathroom.  
  
The tall Frenchman gently dabbed the clear liquid from a cotton ball along the knife wound, and while Quatre bet it stung like crazy, Heero didn't move a muscle. Then Trowa stood up, throwing the bloody bandages and cotton into the kitchen wastebasket with an effortless toss. "I have to go to work now," he said in his quiet, accented English. "You can finish up?" Heero gave him a curt nod. "Quatre can help you if you need it. Keep it covered for the rest of the day and tonight, then let the air get to it."  
  
"Yes, mother," Heero smirked. "You know, this isn't the first time I've had a scrape."  
  
Trowa scowled. Quatre thought it an ugly expression. "I know that. And I know what Cecile does to you, what Gael lets her do." He picked up his bag and tossed it over one shoulder. "You have my permission to shoot her."  
  
This earned him a smirk. "I would in a second if I didn't think the consequences would be dire."  
  
"True. Well, the next time this happens, at least try to break her nose, or cut off her hair or something."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Then Trowa was gone and Quatre was left alone with Heero. The apartment was totally silent for the next few minutes; Heero quietly dressing his wound, Quatre leaning against his bedroom wall, deciding whether or not to join him on the couch. Finally, curiosity won out and, taking a quick breath, he strode out into the living room. Heero looked up as he entered, then back at his hip where he was carefully spreading antiseptic ointment. Quatre sat across from him perched on the edge of the arm chair. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Um, do you need any help?"  
  
Heero shook his head once. "No." Done with the ointment, Heero reached for fresh gauze pads, gently pressing them against the 10-centimeter slice running along his hip bone.  
  
"Who's Cecile?"  
  
Heero scowled and didn't look up. "She's the Boss's right hand and knife and gun and sledge hammer and resident psychopath. You should stay away from her."  
  
"Is she the one who did that to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because Gael let her."  
  
"Why?  
  
"Because he knows she doesn't like me."  
  
"Wh-"  
  
"What are you, two?" Heero snapped, turning his angry gaze on a surprised Quatre. "I don't want to talk about her, I don't need your help with this cut, I have to work in a couple hours, and I'm hungry. Back off. Please." He added that as an afterthought.  
  
Quatre's mouth dropped open. Then he shut it with a snap, indignation rising. People didn't snap at him. Heero had stood up and was trying not to limp over to his bedroom. "Hey!" Quatre called after him. "Don't snap at me." Heero turned back, eyes ablaze. "I'm sorry you suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a girl. I can see why you'd be a little short about it, but if she's a big enough bad-ass to take you out, then I should know about it. Because like it or not, I'm with you now, and if she's someone I have to worry about, if she's going to try to do that to me, I'd like to know when and why. My safety is at stake here, too, and so is everyone else's -- not just your pride." Quatre paused to take a breath and see his flat mate's reaction to that little tirade.  
  
Heero looked him over from head to toe, raking those dark eyes over every inch. Quatre didn't flinch away. Now was not the time for 'shy and unassuming.' "What do they want from you, Heero? Do they want it from all of us?"  
  
He looked down at the carpet, fists clenching. He shook his head. "No. It's just me."  
  
"Why do they want to hurt you?" he asked quietly.  
  
Quatre watched that impossibly taught body wind up even tighter and then, after a deep breath, turn away and sag against the back of the couch. Without turning around, Heero began to speak, almost whispering his story.  
  
"When Duo and I started working for the Boss five years ago, we were just street rats -- skinny kids with dirty faces, nobodies. We stole for him for almost four years. We were his eyes and ears among the other street gangs. He didn't feed us and he didn't give us a place to stay, but we had his name. And that was enough to protect us. He didn't care about Duo or me, probably didn't even remember our names, but we served our purpose. Then we got too old for the kid gangs, and he... he offered us a sort of promotion. We picked up the hustling gig, and that's when he really took notice. We were both 19, and the minute Gael, the Boss, heard Duo running his mouth, watched how he moved and how... well, I think he hates Duo. But me... I don't know what he sees. I mean if I were looking for someone, if I wanted someone, I wouldn't go for...me." Quatre thought he saw Heero flush. "But he does want me. He won't give up. He hasn't stopped since we started this job. Every month or so he finds me and drags me off to some rooftop, where he makes some pretense of asking about business or Duo or, most recently, you. But he always gets in my face and... makes these offers of power and money and sex, and he should know by now that I will never agree to be his. But he doesn't ever give up. And every time I say no to him, he gets pissed and has his muscle beat me up. But Cecile always draws first blood, because that's what ends the fight. My blood unfortunately, no one else's. I would fight her and kill her if I could. I would take on any of those bodyguards and win, but I can't. Because if I kill one of Gael's men, or his crazy girlfriend, he would hurt Duo or Trowa or..." Heero turned to look back over his shoulder. "...or maybe you. So, I can't risk it. So, every five to eight weeks, I come home with a knew cut. It makes Cecile happy, and I think Gael gets off on it, though he'd like me to think that he wants me for other reasons. The whole thing is totally fucked up and infuriating, and I hate talking about it."  
  
"I can see why," Quatre said. "Does Duo know?"  
  
"Of course he knows."  
  
"What does he say?"  
  
"We don't talk about it."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Heero whirled around, anger returning to his voice. "Because we don't. It's humiliating enough without getting someone's sympathy. And now you know. If I have to see one more person giving me sad sympathetic eyes, I'll- I'll..."  
  
"You need a way out, Heero."  
  
The Japanese boy's eyebrows rose and for just the briefest second, Quatre thought Heero would lose it. His dark features held a moment of unadulterated despair, as if inside his own head he was screaming, 'I know! Fuck you, I know that!' Then, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not leaving Duo. If he's hustling, then that's what I'm doing."  
  
"Then you both need a way out."  
  
Heero looked Quatre right in the eye for several seconds. "What do you want? Do you want out?"  
  
Quatre cocked his head thoughtfully, and then smiled. "I just got here."  
  
Heero frowned. "You like..." He glanced around the room. "This? Meeting strangers in hotel rooms and alleys? Living with four people you don't know? You're a Winner. You had everything, you-"  
  
"No. I didn't."  
  
"You had your freedom and so many opportunities."  
  
"My sisters sold me out to the fucking mob. I could have gone to the best schools, worked the family business and inherited millions. I could have bought as many friends as I wanted, but my family abandoned me. And now, I'm living with four people I don't know, but I can already tell that you have more of bond with each other than I've had with anyone in my whole life. So, no, I'm not sure I want out."  
  
"But... you don't... actually like-"  
  
"Sleeping with men? No, I don't." Quatre looked down and tried not to call up the memories of his first few jobs. While he'd tried to keep his cool, to not over react, he'd... well he'd responded in ways he was not proud of. He hadn't hurt anyone and he'd not been injured. But... he'd been shaken and struck with a biting need to be near those he trusted after it was over. And he didn't really trust his flat mates, so he'd been very surprised when Trowa had offered him help in the form of comfort and friendship. The silent Frenchman had sat him down for big meals and then taken him through the city on walks, never saying much, just making sure he wasn't alone. And Quatre was grateful. He didn't like the constant scrutiny, but his smile had been genuine and the feel of Trowa's long body beside his as they walked had been welcome. It wasn't much, but Quatre felt like it was a start.  
  
"What do you think will happen to you?"  
  
Quatre looked up quickly, shaking himself from his thoughts. Heero was looking at him, curiosity hiding in his tone. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You don't think your sisters will come for you."  
  
Quatre weighed his response carefully. "There was one who may have. Iria. We were close. I thought we were, anyway. But, no, I don't think any of them will risk coming to find me."  
  
Heero took this in and nodded. "Trowa seems to think that you really miss them. But I think you're glad for the change, even if you are scared."  
  
The blond boy shrugged. "Trowa seems to think a lot of things about me."  
  
Silence hung heavily in the air and again Quatre squirmed under the feeling of being watched. Finally, he shrugged again and smiled. "I guess I don't know what will happen to me. I am a leaf on the wind."  
  
Heero snorted and shook his head. "That may work for you and Duo, but I need a plan."  
  
"I can see that."  
  
"I can't do this forever. I don't think I can even do it for much longer."  
  
"Not with Cecile carving you up ever few weeks."  
  
"So, I need a plan. We need a plan."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"We either need to find a way to run without getting caught, or take him and his family down so they're no longer a threat to us."  
  
"That doesn't sound too hard," Quatre said, his voice light and sarcastic.  
  
Heero shot him a sideways glance but ignored his tone. He stood up carefully and began to pace. "I don't think we can ever move up enough in this family -- reach a high enough position to be out of danger. If we make it known that we want more power, we'll be competition and we'll be crushed discretely and quickly. Even you won't be safe," he said turning to Quatre. The blond boy gave a half shrug of understanding. "Even if we kill Gael and Cecile, it'll only prove that his leadership is fallible. We'll be the targets of the next coup. It has to be all or nothing. We run some place he can never find us -- and I don't think such a place exists -- or we make it so Gael is no longer a threat to us."  
  
Quatre tapped his middle finger against his chin. "Sure; we'll send one of us in as a spy, earning his trust and simultaneously collecting as much dirt on the family as we can. Another one of us will see what he's got on his computers. We can hack them from here if we have the right equipment. Then when we've accumulated all this data... we can give it to some policemen he doesn't own and we'll be all set." He smirked up at Heero. "Should be a piece of cake."  
  
His flat mate stared down at him, mouth hanging slightly open.  
  
"Heero?"  
  
A slow smile spread across his face until his dark features took on a whole new shape. Quatre realized two things then: that Heero was, in fact, a strikingly handsome man and that the look he was getting from his flat mate made him very nervous. Without warning, Heero let out a wild 'whoop!' and turned a perfect cartwheel in the middle of their living room. It may as well have been Duo standing there grinning.  
  
"Quatre, you are a genius." Quatre's blue eyes went very wide. Then, clutching his bandaged hip, Heero disappeared into his bedroom, reappearing a moment later with a flier from a local electronics store. He leafed through it and then slammed it down on the coffee table. Quatre jumped then looked down at the open page.  
  
"Build-your-own computer day!" Heero said excitedly. "It's in two weeks. Duo will be thrilled. We haven't had a good heist in years."  
  
"You're going to steal a computer?"  
  
"You got a few thou laying around, Winner?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That you can access from this building?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, then-"  
  
"Heero, I was- I wasn't serious about this plan." But the elated expression on his flat mate's face told Quatre that he was wasting his words.


	8. Ralph (Duo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \------  
> A/N: This is the baby setup for the next sort of mini-arc entitled "Ralph".

**8\. Duo**

This time it's on my own  
Minutes from somewhere else  
_\- "Lucky Denver Mint" Jimmy Eat World_  
  
The call came late at night. Duo sat on the couch, sketchbook on his lap, when the phone rang. He answered before the first ring ended, not wanting to wake the others. His face hardened when he realized the call was a last-minute job. He hated those. They were usually the biggest pains in the ass. He frowned when the anonymous voice told him it was his job. But then he shrugged. Well, at least Heero would be spared. His frown deepened when the voice told him that his best friend was not to go along. That would not go over well. He almost dropped the phone when he learned that Wufei would go in his stead... as his participating partner.  
  
"Fuck," he said absently, barely registering that he'd hung up the phone. He stood up slowly, pulling the throw blanket tighter around his shoulders. This couldn't be right. Heero went on jobs with him. That was part of the deal. Heero. Not Wufei. The boss allowed the two of them to work together. It was all but in the contract. It was a scrap of dignity he had afforded them a year ago. Two scared kids, horrified at the job they were being offered. They would do it if they could go together. This was the first breach of that rule. It'd be the first time he'd go on a job without Heero. Not that he didn't trust Wufei -- he did. They were good friends. But... "You're not Heero," he whispered. He stood outside the bedroom he shared with his best friend, then carefully pushed it open. The dim light from the living room slid inside, falling across the foot of Heero's bed. Duo could hear his quiet breathing, knew he was deeply asleep. He leaned his head against the doorframe and kept his eyes trained on that reassuring lump under the covers.  
  
'It's okay, Maxwell,' he thought. 'It'll be fine. You and Wu are tight. You'll just go, do your thing, keep your eyes shut. Then get out. Don't make a big deal out of it. Just business. Sure, you've always had Heero with you, but you're a big boy. You can handle this.' He pulled the door shut and turned toward Wufei's room. Better to tell him now. The dragon did not like surprises in the morning. He turned the knob and entered, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet across the floor, trying to make as much noise as possible so as not to surprise him.  
  
"Wu," he called softly.  
  
Instantly, his friend came awake, automatically reaching for the knife he kept under his pillow. "Who's- whatsit-"  
  
Duo kept his hands in the air and smiled. Wufei remained high strung no matter the time of day. Even groggy he was not to be trifled with. "Hey- it's just me. No blades required."  
  
"That remains to be seen," the dragon mumbled grumpily. "Whaddya want." It wasn't actually a question. It was a command to speak and explain the cause of a rude awakening.  
  
Duo sat down on the end of the bed. It was the only seating in the room, aside from a meditation mat. Wufei drew his legs up to his chest, giving Duo as much room as possible. "Wu, we've got a bit of a situation." The dragon waited expectantly. "It seems the boss got a request for two of us at once... together."  
  
Wufei snorted and ran his fingers through silky black hair. "I was wondering when you and Heero would have to do that. I'm amazed you haven't had to so far. You go together everywhere. It only makes sense." He paused. "But why come to me about it? You think Heero won't do it?"  
  
Duo rubbed the back of his head and took a deep breath. "It's not me and Heero; it's me and you."  
  
Wufei stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Then he started shaking his head, eyes narrowing. Duo nodded in answer.  
  
"No, that's not right."  
  
"I'm sorry, Wu."  
  
"That can't be right. That's not _right!"_ The dragon lunged at Duo so quickly that he nearly toppled over again, tangled in his blankets. Elaborate Mandarin curses flew from his mouth, and Duo spent the next several minutes trying to catch hold of his arms, hands and fists, fists intended for him. He wrestled him back to the bed, succeedin in dodging the blows aimed at... he didn't know where. He could see that the dragon was in a panic. If Wufei had really wanted to hit him, Duo would already be unconscious.  
  
"Wu- Wufei, please. Please just calm down. We need to talk this out first. Flying off the handle and punching my lights out isn't gonna help the situation."  
  
"It would help mine." His voice almost broke.  
  
"No it wouldn't. Wu, look at me." Black eyes swung up to meet violet. "We need a plan. We can't change it now. The job's tomorrow. And we can't walk in there blind. It's with one guy... so it'll be okay. We just need... a plan."  
  
Wufei turned on his bedside light and took a few deep breaths. "Duo. We can't work together," he said firmly.  
  
"We have to."  
  
"But we can't. I've only been working for half a year. I can _barely_ keep it together for the cheap shit jobs I'm given. Those johns don't want more than a quick... fuck against a dumpster. How am I supposed to... perform for-"  
  
"More than ten minutes?" It was a cheap shot and Duo knew it, but he smirked anyway.  
  
Wufei frowned. "I object to what you're insinuating, but yes. I'm not like you."  
  
Duo flinched and tried to cover it up with an offended _expression. "Now I object to-" But he could see Wufei backpedaling as soon as the words were out of his mouth.  
  
"I mean I can't make it look like I'm enjoying it. I'm not as good an actor as you." They watched each other warily for another second before Duo shrugged and smiled.  
  
"Few can. It's a gift." He took a breath then waved his hand dismissively, trying for a casual air he really didn't feel. "Look, Wu. Leave the acting to me. Chances are, this guy saw us at that expensive club a few weeks ago and liked the way we looked together. So he probably knows that I'm the smooth sexy one and you're the hesitant-but- hot one." Wufei scowled at the description even as Duo patted himself on the back for its accuracy. "So he's probly gonna  
want us to keep up that lovely image for him. It'll be no big."  
  
Wufei crossed his arms over his chest. He looked somewhat placated. "I highly doubt that."  
  
Duo stood up and headed for the door, eager to be away, eager to be in his bed and unconscious and away from what he knew would happen in the next 24 hours. But he paused in the doorway and turned a reassuring smile on his friend, still tense, still thrown, sitting in bed with the covers clenched in his fists. "You need to stop frowning so much, Wu. You'll get scowl lines before the age of 25. And I do like to see you smile." He grabbed the door knob and began to pull it shut behind him.  
  
"Wait." Duo turned and found himself pinned by obsidian eyes, clear and deadly serious. "You need to tell Heero -- tonight. He won't take it well."  
  
Duo took a few steps back into the room, absently rubbing his upper arms and nodding. "You're right." He turned toward the wall that connected their two bedrooms as if he could see through it to Heero's bed. "I'm not looking forward to that conversation. "  
  
"Why?" Duo whipped around to see Heero standing in the doorway, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "What's going on? I heard Wufei shouting."  
  
Duo looked at Wufei, who still had his bedspread twisted in his fists. The dragon gave him an encouraging nod. He turned back to his friend and cleared his throat. "Well, um, Wufei and I, we- that is... there's a bit of a situation."


	9. Ralph (Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**9\. Wufei**  
  
The hazy fog over the bull ring,  
The lazy ways the birds sing  
A new baby's born every day  
Few men may be spoilt today  
But look at things the other way  
Cos it may well be your final day  
_\-- "Turn the Page" The Streets_  
  
Their departure had not been an easy one -- not that he'd expected it to be. He watched Duo glance over his shoulder again and again, eyes seeking their sixth floor apartment, looking for a pacing silhouette in the windows. Wufei even looked back once, just to see if Heero was still there. And he was, back and forth, pacing around the bedroom, stopping every few rounds to press a hand against the glass. Wufei shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Such drama,' he thought. He tried to put the image of Heero and Duo's parting out of his mind, embarrassed that he had stumbled upon it in the first place.  
  
Duo's normally loud voice had turned quiet and reassuring. "Ro, it's only for one night. Not even. We'll be home by morning. And then it'll all be over. And I'm not goin' alone. Wu's gonna be with me the whole time."  
  
Somehow Wufei didn't think that Heero found that particularly reassuring. And they hadn't made it two steps out of the apartment before they heard his voice through the door, calling after them.  
  
"Duo!" The braided man was back inside in under a second, wide violet eyes darting around the room looking for the emergency. Wufei stayed in the hallway, but he saw everything. Heero grabbed Duo's shoulder and looked him over once more, taking in every detail. It looked to Wufei like he thought he'd never seen his partner again. Finally, he took hold of Duo's braid and, with great care, wrapped it around his fist. He looked down at the thick rope of hair for a moment, then gave it a gentle tug. Their eyes met briefly, then Heero release the braid and walked straight to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.  
  
And now Duo wasn't saying anything. Such drama. And so unnecessary. They really just need to go at it like rabbits and get it over with. The whole flat will be a happier place for it. Wufei's thoughts continued on this bent until they were seated on the train, side-by-side, speeding toward their destination. Then he could not keep the voices silent any longer. He felt surrounded, the entire counsel of elders walling him in, buzzing in his brain like a swarm of angry hornets.  
  
'How will you do this, Chang? How will you work with Duo Maxwell? Go ahead and say it. Not just work with him. 'Work' is a cowardly word. You have to touch him, let him touch you. What if he has to fuck you? You're a solitary dragon. Can you surrender, give your body to someone else? Will this be the time you get one of their diseases? What will you do if you can't wear protection? What will you tell Duo? Be honest with yourself, Chang -- you want to touch him. Have you been waiting for this day? We know your weaknesses, Chang. You may have escaped with your life, but we will always be with you. We'll always know what you do. Your wife will always-'  
  
Duo looked at him sharply, eyebrows raised. Belatedly, he realized that he'd kicked and dented the pole in the middle of the train car, and while it had shut up the voice of his clan, it had also scared away the other passengers. Well, good. Now they had room to breathe.  
  
"You okay, Chang?" He knew Duo was worried when he called him by his family name.  
  
"I'm okay. I just... have a few concerns." He avoided Duo's eyes, not wanting his brain to flash forward to what they'd be doing in a few short hours. He couldn't bare it.  
  
"I have concerns, too," Duo muttered, voice barely audible over the noise of the train.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Wu-" He raised his voice a bit, over the roar. "I don't want to do this any more than you do. It feels wrong." Then he quieted a bit, and Wufei leaned closer to hear him, keeping his eyes on Duo's hands where they rested in his lap. "Up til now, I've been doing a job that I thought... was my lot in life. I played the cards I was dealt, you know? Wufei, look at me, please." Reluctant onyx eyes rose to meet violet. "This feels wrong to me. Working with you, forced to ...do things to you that I only ever... I'd rather you were a stranger. Hell, that fuckhead from a few weeks ago would be better."  
  
Wufei frowned. "You'd rather be with someone who would purposely hurt and humiliate you than someone you know and trust?" He didn't want to admit it, but that hurt quite a bit.  
  
"Yes, because I can hate him and make jokes about what a dick he was. I live with you. We have to go home from this guy's place. Home -- the same home! We'll know things about each other. We'll have seen parts of each other that... are better kept secret."  
  
"What do you suggest we do?" Wufei asked stiffly.  
  
"Beats me," Duo said with a shrug. "Things'll probly get messy tonight, go south real quick. This'll screw with both of us, but, Wu, we're friends and it should take more than a job to fuck that up." Their gazes met again and Wufei saw fear but also determination in his friend's eyes. Duo shook his head and frowned. "Maybe that was a mistake, becoming friends with coworkers. Maybe we're to blame for this mess, but I don't think so. I think Boss Man is trying to scare us, to screw up our balance. But we can't let'im, Wu. We've just gotta prove to ourselves that we're not intimidated or scared. The Boss can think whatever he wants about us. I want to know if you and I will still be able to... to look at each other after this."  
  
Wufei considered his friend carefully, marveling at this moment of honesty between them. This was new and intense, and Wufei liked it. He nodded and reached over to wipe away a smudge of kohl from Duo's eye. "Don't get too worked up, Maxwell. Your eyeliner will smear."  
  
And that was the end of the conversation. They got off at the next stop and walked two blocks to the loft. Standing outside the posh apartment building, Wufei straightened his slate gray dress shirt and saw Duo do the same with his dark blue button-down. "You look nice," he murmured and was rewarded with one of Duo's genuine smiles, though it was a little nervous. The braided man reached over and pulled a few strands of black hair out of its ponytail.  
  
"So do you." He rang the buzzer. "Here we go."  
  
+  
  
Wufei didn't know why he'd hoped that the john would be a nice normal guy. So rarely did it work out like that. Did it ever? But, maybe just for tonight, their client would be a clever, sophisticated, amusing, intelligent... Hell, boring would have been acceptable too. He would have taken boring. Just not...  
  
Ralph. He was a good looking guy. Wufei could admit that. He was on the small side, about their size actually -- under 170 centimeters. He had attractive silver hair and was dressed well in a slimming black suit. This was about all Wufei could report on his appearance. He tried not to get a good look at his face. He wanted to remember as little of the night as possible.  
  
It was Ralph's manner that made Wufei uneasy. He didn't say much. He just...watched. And he smiled a lot. He sat back in his chair and watched them eat. The food was excellent. Stir-fried vegetables with marinated tofu for him and a plate of spaghetti and salad for Duo. The fact that Ralph knew what kind of foods they liked did not make them particularly nervous. Of course he would have inquired after their preferences. That was a given. But an elaborate dinner usually meant elaborate after-dinner activities. And this was all Wufei could really think about. So, he had absolutely no appetite and watching Duo tuck in all that pasta made him a little green. He knew Duo's philosophy on food: "Better to have a full stomach. A) You can hold your liquor better. B) You never know when it'll be the last mean you ever eat." He understood why Duo held this philosophy, given his upbringing. Wufei had quite a different relationship with food in circumstances like these, with men like Ralph sitting across from him. "The less in your stomach, the less you'll have to throw up later." Wufei thought he'd get a good chuckle out of the double meaning in their client's name after this was all over. Maybe he'd bring it up to Duo on the train home.  
  
Thankfully, Duo carried on most of the conversation -- about the food, the wine, the furniture, the wallpaper, the dishes, Ralph's clothes. It was nonstop. Wufei hardly had to say two words, until they retired to the living room with the wine. Duo started in on another round of compliments. "Your place is just great and I'm havin' a real great time, Ralph. This couch is so comfy! Don't you think so, Chang?" The slim body next to his bounced up and down a few times on the soft leather, jostling him out of his reverie. He looked up and found both men looking expectantly at him. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Yes. This is very pleasant. The food was very good. And... the flat is tastefully decorated. Thank you for your hospitality...Ralph."  
  
Their host began to chuckle and Wufei flushed. "So polite, so reserved," he murmured. "It's a pleasure to have you in my home. You're welcome any time, though next time perhaps you'll do me the honor of actually eating the food I provide."  
  
Wufei stiffened and looked down at his hands, concentrating on not balling them into fists. This man was... off. Duo laughed easily enough, throwing a companionable arm across his shoulders. "Oh, he's just tryin' to keep his boyish figure. Plus we're not used to this fine treatment. This is a real treat for us. He's just shy is all."  
  
Wufei nodded and attempted a smile. "Oh, I know," Ralph said quietly. "That's why I like him." Even though he refused to look up, Wufei could feel Ralph's eyes going over his body. He held up the wine and offered them more. Duo accepted, taking a large swallow of the dark red liquid.  
  
"I need to use the restroom," Wufei said abruptly, standing up quickly and ignoring the proffered wine glass.  
  
"Ah, of course," Ralph murmured. "Down the hall and to the left. Don't be long. I've got a lot planned for he evening." He glanced significantly at Duo, the young hustler flashing his most seductive grin. But Wufei could see how tightly he gripped the arm of the couch and violet eyes locked with his in a plea for him to hurry.  
  
"No..." he muttered. "I won't be a minute." He fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He leaned back against it, eyes closed, breathing slowed. Then he faced his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale. Placing his palms flat on the countertop, he tried to find his center. "You are Chang Wufei of the Dragon Clan," he murmured. "Your true self can never be breached. Your soul can not be compromised. Your body is temporary. Your pride is just vanity. Duo Maxwell is your friend, and you will stand by him. You will live through this and the next obstacle and the next. And if you do not, your soul will still exist, will move on to the next life. Your soul can not be compromised." He took a few deep breaths and turned to go, not wanting to leave Duo alone with Ralph. Then he remember why he'd come to the bathroom in the first place. Dropping to his knees over the toilet, he threw up everything he'd just eaten and drank. Even though it had only been a little bit, he didn't want that man's food tainting his body. Plus he had a clearer head on an empty stomach. He got to his feet and pushed a steady hand through his hair. Much better.  
  
+  
  
Ralph had mirrors on his ceiling, big ones, right over the bed. Wufei groaned upon seeing them. He'd never been one for porno, and he still knew this went beyond cliché. But Duo was grinning. "Nice touch, Ralph. Like to see from all angles?"  
  
Wufei didn't want to see or hear Ralph's response. He wished he could plug his ears. "I'm an observer by nature."  
  
"Clearly," Duo teased.  
  
Ralph motioned them toward the bed, a giant four-poster affair with a thick dark corduroy cover. Wufei eyed it nervously, picturing himself on it, Duo with him. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when Duo was very suddenly behind him, long arms sliding around his waist and spinning him around to face the rest of the room. They stood nose-to-nose for a moment before he realized that they were alone.  
  
"Where's Ralph?" he whispered, glancing quickly around the room.  
  
Duo shrugged. "In the can or something. Didn't you hear him say, 'Excuse me gentlemen, but I must freshen up.'" His imitation was quite good.  
  
"No, I didn't," Wufei said faintly. "I was..." he turned to look back at the gigantic bed.  
  
"Yeah, I was checkin' that monster out myself. If you roll over to the other side, I'll have to send a search party." Wufei thought the cocky smile looked a little forced. The arms around his waist dropped.  
  
"Duo..."  
  
"Look, Wu," his friend interrupted. "While you were in the bathroom, Ralph explained a few things to me. I think this'll all work out pretty easy. The guy's a voyeur; he's totally hands-off. It's just you and me, okay?"  
  
"He's going to watch us?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"I don't have to touch him?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Wufei felt his knees wobble with relief, then he went rigid as their host returned. He'd removed his jacket and now took a seat in an armchair about five paces from the bed. He rolled up his sleeves and turned a small smile on his guests. "You may have guessed that I was there with you that night a few weeks ago. I watched you dance the whole night and I enjoyed the two of you so much that I thought I'd invite you to my home for an encore performance. I found you both so strikingly different and so beautiful that I wanted to see you again, and I want you to be just as you were then. I want you to writhe and bend and throb like you did then. I want you to dance for me."  
  
Wufei tried not to grimace. 'Oh, gross,' he grumbled internally.  
  
Knowing he was blushing, Wufei turned his attention back to Duo, who still stood so close that he could hear his soft breathing. He wondered if his partner could hear the way his heart drummed frantically against his ribs. "He means on the bed, Wu," Duo said quietly, gentle hands taking him firmly by the waist and pushing him until the backs of his thighs pressed against the mattress.  
  
Wufei knew he was getting redder by the second. Ralph chuckled at his embarrassment. "Perfect," he murmured. "You're both perfect."  
  
Duo leaned in close and whispered, "Just follow my lead." Then he began to undo the buttons of Wufei's shirt, violet eyes lowered, a seductive smirk firmly in place. This was Duo At Work, someone Wufei had never encountered. This Duo made him uneasy. But, not one to be left behind, Wufei hurriedly reached up to do the same. They worked around each others arms until all the buttons were open. Then Duo gently pushed the shirt back and down over Wufei's shoulders. His eyes roamed over the dragon's chest and torso and when he looked up, they held a certain amount of admiration. Wufei swallowed thickly and refused to look away. Duo leaned in close and brushed a feather-light kiss against the racing pulse at his throat.  
  
"Trust me, Wufei," he whispered.  
  
"I do."  
  
"Good," Ralph purred from the armchair. "Trust him. Let him lead you."  
  
Duo subtly rolled his eyes and ran his hands over Wufei's chest, finally sliding one arm around his waist and the other around his neck. Duo pulled them together for another kiss, this one right on the mouth. For the first time, Wufei tasted his best friend. His tongue touched teeth and firm lips and then retreated. Duo tasted like wine and salt. He began to return the kiss and he felt Duo smile into his mouth.  
  
Then everything was moving faster than he could fully comprehend. They were pulling off clothes, kissing, biting, and gasping, grabbing, pushing and twisting, all the while whispering questions and commands.  
  
"What should I-" "Lie down." "No, I-" "Does this feel good?" "Yes. Should you-" "Take them off." "Are you ok?" "Yes." "Are you?" "Yes."  
  
It happened in a blur of soft cloth and skin, and suddenly Duo had him pinned on the gigantic bed, whip-thin body poised over him, rope of hair resting on his chest. Wufei felt as though his breath had been stolen. Violet eyes bored into him, paralyzing him.  
  
Duo was naked. This was it; the first time he'd seen his good friend exposed like this. And he was beautiful. In surprised awe, Wufei ran his hands over the long, lean muscles of his arms and shoulders. His creamy white skin felt like silk stretched tight over sinew and bone. But the muscle felt strong, like corded steel. He traced the lines of spidery scar tissue that threaded along his abdomen. Where had these come from? They looked old.  
  
"Duo..." he breathed.  
  
"Shh." They kissed again, mouths pressed hard together, tongues tentatively touching lips and teeth. Wufei rolled them over, so he could get a better look at his friend. The braid snaked across the cover, a glistening chestnut rope against black. Wufei tried his best to forget the john over in his chair, watching their every move. If he could just focus on Duo, this surprising man beneath him... Duo's eyes met his and Wufei was startled to see unclouded affection and trust and want staring up at him. Somehow even the At Work Duo had been stripped away.  
  
Wufei did not do blow jobs. It was all but in the contract. He didn't want the male organ anywhere near his mouth. This was his policy. But now... Duo intrigued him. Hard and soft. Graceful and sad. Beautiful and unsure. He trailed kisses down a tight stomach and Duo arched into him, moaning softly. "Duo," he said again, kissing his thigh. He moved his mouth closer. Maybe just a taste. He imagined heat and salt.  
  
"No, Wufei. Submit to Duo's great expertise. Let him lead you."  
  
They both flinched but obeyed, a small voice in Wufei's mind whispering, 'But... he's perfect.'  
  
"Take off his underwear," Ralph ordered, and Duo immediately grabbed the elastic waistband of Wufei's boxers. He tugged them down, sparkling eyes never leaving his.  
  
"Just relax," he murmured.  
  
Wufei didn't know what was lust and what was just part of the job, what was real and what was acting. He found he didn't need to act much at all. His underwear now nowhere to be seen, Wufei felt Duo's hands on him. This was generally against the rules. If he had his way, he'd do it all. But tonight was different; Duo was different. He could make an exception. This was a meeting of equals. And that hand was very talented. He closed his eyes and let a moan escape, telling himself it was for Ralph's benefit. Right. Try to forget Ralph. Ralph isn't here.  
  
"Ah! Duo!" he started, propping himself up on his elbows. The hustler had his mouth dangerously close to where his hand had just been. "You shouldn't... you don't have to do that." But Duo just gave him a small, mischievous smile and ignored him. Wufei had only received oral sex once, and it was bad. Sure, he'd had an orgasm, but he'd also seriously bruised the john's jaw. And he'd felt... violated for a week. He got himself off. He took his own pleasure. He gave it to others but they were not free to give back. He refused to be manipulated. At least that was the original policy. But like he said before: this was different. And once he climaxed maybe they could go home. He wasn't the fuck-all-night-long type. Once was enough. More than. God, this job was getting to him.  
  
And now Duo was getting to him. Shit, he had him. Duo was doing the impossible -- he was turning Wufei, warrior and scholar of the Dragon Clan into a whimpering, writhing mush of muscle, bone and compromised integrity. Oh, god, just a little longer. Wet, warm and slippery. He could feel it, coiling up inside him, the buildup of pressure. He was almost-  
  
"Duo, stop."  
  
'No, please...' Wufei groaned his frustration, pushing his hips upward toward Duo's retreating mouth. Duo looked up in confusion, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, voice tinged with irritation.  
  
Ralph smiled and Wufei felt his arousal evaporate. Oh right. There was fucking Ralph in his fucking armchair. "Duo, you have to teach him. He's new at this -- clean -- not like you."  
  
If it weren't for the weight of Duo's body keeping him on the bed, Wufei would have been in front of that armchair and making so many threats to Ralph's body parts, the fucker's ears would be smoking. But as it was, they both raged internally at the blatant insult. Duo swallowed convulsively; Wufei pictured himself carrying out his planned threats.  
  
"What do you want us to do?" Duo asked sweetly enough.  
  
"I want you to take him."  
  
Bells, whistles, sirens, alarms, red flags and road signs reading 'Wrong Way!' blared in Wufei's brain and they both exchanged a horrified glance before Duo cleared his throat and tried to mediate. "See, Ralph, sir, my buddy Chang, here, doesn't take kindly to that sort of thing. He's just not the type." Wufei could only scowl and focus on not crushing Ralph's windpipe. "So," Duo continued as casually as if they were talking about window replacements, "We could go the other way round. He'd be happy to-"  
  
"No," Ralph interrupted. "I discussed this with your superior and he said that my preference was perfectly acceptable. I quote. 'It'd take him down a few notches.'"  
  
Wufei felt his insides turn to ash. The Boss had finally decided he'd had enough of Wufei's strict preferences. His grace period was over.  
  
"However," Ralph continued, "I prefer not to think of this as bringing you down, but rather raising you up to be a better and more perfect whore. And Duo will teach you." Duo made a small choking noise in the back of his throat and abruptly sat back on his heals.  
  
'That was the wrong thing to say,' Wufei thought darkly, knowing that any second, Duo would fly off the bed, Lola gleaming in the reflected light of the mirrors, an angel of vengeance, poised to remove Ralph's poisonous vocal chords. Instead, the young man took hold of his braid and clutched it like a security blanket. His eyes closed and he rocked himself back and forth, as though a phantom mother were comforting him. When he next looked at Wufei, his eyes were flat with resigned determination.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chang. We can't fight Gael, not here."  
  
"But-" The dragon back-pedaled until he was pressed against the headboard.  
  
"Yes," Ralph purred. "Learning is a struggle; it is painful."  
  
Duo crawled toward him. "Please, Chang. I just want to go home."  
  
Wufei shook his head quickly. "No." This he could not do. It would be the end of him. Chang Wufei would die and in his place would grow a filthy, foul insect with no soul, no sense of right or wrong. In the time it took Duo to reach him, he'd gone over all his options.  
  
1) He could run out of the room and the loft, hopefully with clothes, and never go back to the place he shared with the others. He could leave town. But that would endanger his friends. They might be punished for letting him escape. And, if he was honest with himself -- and this moment required brutal honesty -- the Family would find him. Even if he left the country, they would find him. And he couldn't go back to his clan. They would kill him.  
2) He could try to talk Duo out of it, and they could try to talk Ralph out of it. But any problems with their job would be reported directly to the Boss. He would know they'd left a customer unsatisfied. And they would be punished.  
3) They could kill Ralph. This was Wufei's favorite option so far. But again, serious repercussions if they were tied to the murder. Would the boss give them an alibi if they were questioned? Had anyone seen them come in? Most importantly, would the boss care if one of his clients was found dead in his armchair?  
4) Go through with it and kill himself after it was over.  
5) Go through with it and try to survive the ordeal, try to put himself back together again.  
  
He knew he wasn't alone anymore, knew he had friends. His best friend was now kneeling in front of him, braid clutched in white-knuckled fingers. He said it again, "I just want to go home, Chang." Wufei turned to Ralph where he sat smiling in his armchair. He would not beg for mercy. No, Wufei was memorizing the man's face so that he could kill him on sight the next time they crossed paths. Until this moment, he'd been avoiding even looking the john in the eye, hoping that if he never got a really good look, he could somehow forget that this whole thing ever happened. Now Ralph was marked.  
  
He turned back to Duo and nodded once, sliding back down along the bedspread until he lay with his legs spread, Duo kneeling between them. 'Option 05 it is, then.'


	10. (Wufei and Duo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**10a. Wufei and Duo**

All stare, eyes glazed  
Garage burnt down, the fire raged  
For 40 days and in 40 ways  
But through the blaze they see it fade  
The sea of black, the beaming heat on their faces  
Their figure emerges from the wastage  
_\- "Turn the Page" The Streets_  
  
He grimaced and tried to keep the cry of pain from escaping his lips. He lay perfectly still, hoping that not moving would lessen the crippling feeling of being torn in half. It didn't.  
  
"Duo," he gritted. "Do it. Hurry."  
  
Duo held himself above Wufei, arms braced on either side of him. He was buried inside him, hurting him with every move they made.  
  
"I'm sorry, Wu. I'm so sorry," he whispered again and again. He'd tried to prepare him, but the dragon would not relax, could not, and now Duo was hurting him, damaging delicate tissue. Even with lubrication, there was blood. "It'll be over soon. And we can just..." He thrust in and out once and felt his cheeks burn with shame that it still felt good. That he still felt aroused at all was just further testimony of how sick he was. Ralph was right. This job was perfect for him; it was made for him. His eyes burned and he kept them trained on Wufei's shuddering chest. But then the dragon grabbed his chin and forced his gaze up.  
  
"Look at me," his partner whispered fiercely. "Stay here." Duo searched Wufei's face for the hatred he knew he should find there, but he did not see it. He saw pain and anger, but also trust. He didn't deserve that and he couldn't bear the feel of Wufei's eyes on his face, accepting the pain. He shifted so he could get an arm under his friend's back to pull him closer and not see that undeserved emotion in ebony irises.  
  
Wufei's dangerously strong arms went around him and Duo gasped at the increased friction. They now clung to each other, locked together in a frantic embrace. "Finish it," Wufei breathed, voice harsh in Duo's ear. He shut his eyes and obeyed, increasing their pace, bracing one arm against the wall behind them.  
  
Wufei suddenly felt himself move beyond the pain. The fire in his gut dulled and his vision cleared. He was half-sitting, one leg wrapped around Duo's waist, an arm propping him up on the bed. His friend moved steadily inside him, lithe strong body slick with sweat, breathing loud in his ear. Every few breaths, he thought he heard a whispered "I'm sorry," and his heart clenched. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on the feeling of their bodies moving together. There was pain -- it radiated from where they were joined -- but there was pleasure too, bright bursts of it. He felt these flashes when Duo was deepest inside him, and when the young man groaned softly in the back of his throat. He was making those noises more frequently now and his body was growing impossibly tense.  
  
Duo pulled back slightly and they looked at each other, violet eyes glassy, black eyes sharp and watchful. "Wu- I'm gonna-" Wufei cut him off with a hard kiss, eyes sliding shut. Those words were just for him. He didn't want Ralph to hear what passed between them. So he tasted them instead. He felt his partner's pleasure in that kiss as well as his pain and guilt. And in that moment he never wanted anyone more than he wanted Duo. This realization swept him up in a swift heady wave and his eyes opened wide, staring blankly at the ceiling. He saw his reflection in the mirror over his head, but he couldn't focus. He held Duo tightly against him and arched his hips off the bed so that he could feel every muscle twitch, every ragged breath. He knew that Duo was close, felt him losing control, his smooth voice turning rough in his ear.  
  
Wufei wanted and the strength of his sudden and sharp desire sent electric shocks of sensation threading all through his back and shoulders, up his neck and down the insides of his thighs. Someone had told him some time ago -- probably Duo -- that the brain was the most powerful erogenous zone, that the body reacted and needed certain things, but that the brain was what really counted. The brain wanted.  
  
Duo's breath caught in his throat and he groaned. "I'm gonna..." He felt himself slide over the edge, felt his body spasm, breath and pulse racing. Then his eyes focused very suddenly as his partner's body jerked beneath him and blunt teeth sank into the muscle over his collarbone. They both shouted and Duo flushed even hotter when he felt warm sticky fluid coat his stomach.  
  
Then clenched muscles finally gave out and they collapsed onto the covers.  
  
**10b. Wufei**  
  
Young bold soldiers, the fire burns  
Cracks and smolders  
Five years older and wiser  
The fires are burning on fire, never tire  
Slave warriors in the forests and on higher  
We sing, hear the strings rising  
The war's over, the bells ring  
Memories fading, soldiers slaying  
Looks like geezers raving  
_\- "Turn the Page" The Streets_  
  
Wufei was back in the bathroom, facing the mirror. This time, he wasn't alone. He would not leave Duo with that man ever again. Locked in the bathroom with his partner, he felt the safest he had all night. Duo was in the shower. He was supposed to be cleaning up as well. But he could only stare at his reflection. His hair stood up at odd angles and he knew it was snarled in the back where his head had slid up and down against the pillow. The kohl around his eyes had run a little, smudging his eyelids, giving him an exhausted look. Pretty accurate. The bright red blood on his lips and teeth drew most of his attention. It tasted like metal. He spit Duo's blood into the sink, and then rinsed his mouth until what he spit out was only pale pink, then clear. He put his hair back in its ponytail, then rooted through the drawers, looking for bandages. Duo would need one. All the while he attempted to ignore the throbbing pain below his waist. He couldn't do much about it now.  
  
He found first aid cream and band aids and laid them out on the sink. He then took out the pair of scissors he'd spotted in his search for medical supplies. Smoothing back his hair as best he could, he took hold of the elastic tie and ruthlessly cut through the ponytail. A chunk of black silk came off in his hand. He threw it in the garbage. Next, he cut out the snarl at the back of his head. When Duo turned off the shower water, most of his hair was in the trashcan beside the sink. He wiped the steam off the mirror and examined his reflection. The mark of his people was now shorn off. His hair stood straight up, freed from its own weight, none of it longer than two finger-widths. Duo stood behind him, shock written all over his features.  
  
"Wu..." he breathed.  
  
Wufei turned to face him. "I found some cream for your neck. And some band aids. I would say I'm sorry I bit you, but-"  
  
"You're clearly not," Duo said with a smirk. Wufei knew that tremendous guilt lay beneath that twisted smile. But now was not the time to talk about it. "S'okay. Fair's fair, though I doubt that makes us even."  
  
Wufei shook his head. "I don't wish to hurt you as much as... he injured me. I wish to kill him."  
  
Duo nodded his understanding and made a better attempt at a smile. Tentatively he reached up to run his fingers through Wufei's shorn locks. "Do you think you'll-"  
  
Wufei cut him off with a shake of his head, snatching his fingers from the air and holding them firmly. "We'll talk when we're gone from this place."  
  
Duo nodded again and jerked his chin toward the shower. "If you wanna use it, good water pressure; better than ours. Still don't feel clean though."


	11. (Duo and Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**11a. Duo**   


I put a piece of paper and a pencil under my pillow  
And when I could not sleep, I wrote in the dark  
_\- H.D. Thoreau_  
  
Duo watched Wufei disappear into his bedroom. The door closed and he was alone, stalled by the front door. His mouth had been open to say something, anything, to assuage the anguish and loathing twisting his gut. But Wufei had not looked back once; he'd just disappeared. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd beg forgiveness.  
  
Duo shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, not yet ready to face his own reflection. He hurried through his nighttime rituals, most of them already done since he'd showered at Ralph's place.  
  
Ralph. Charming, smiling, slippery snake... twisted fuck. Baldly calling him unclean, a whore. Duo growled and gripped the sink tighter, wishing he could crack the thick enamel with his bare hands. He might feel better then. Usually, he could just shake it off, laugh it off; the job didn't faze him. He didn't hate it like he knew Heero did. This was his life and he accepted it. But what he'd done to Wufei was unforgivable.  
  
He walked to his bedroom, stripping as he went. He never wanted to see these clothes again. He should burn them. But, if he burned every piece of clothing associated with a crap job, he wouldn't have anything to wear within... well, it wouldn't take long. Washing and drying was the best he could do. He slid silently into his room, careful to keep his movements slow and easy. He really didn't want Heero involved right now. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest.  
  
How would he even look at Wufei tomorrow? How could they exist in the same place? He took a few deep breaths and tried to clear his head, but all he could think about was Wufei's face, twisted in pain, body arched toward him, voice breaking in his ear. "Finish it." Damnit, he'd kill Ralph himself before Wufei had the chance. They should have killed him where he sat in that fucking armchair. It would have been easy and he never would have had to injure his friend, betray his trust... But, no, he'd done everything that fucker told him to. And he'd liked it -- their bodies pressed together, harsh breathing, bruising ribs and shoulders. With Wufei in his arms like that, at that moment, he'd never wanted anyone so much in his life. It had swept over him in a swift and dizzying tide, nearly choking him. He'd held Wufei as tight as he could, the need to give comfort in a time of distress hardwired into him. And then, somehow through the pain, his partner had finished. Duo flushed all over again at the feeling of Wufei shuddering beneath him, body flexing and bending in its release.  
  
But he was wrong to feel good about that! He was wrong! How could he have allowed it to-  
  
"Duo, stop."  
  
Heero's voice cut through his bitter self-recrimination and before he could curb his admittedly touchy reflexes, he held Lola in steady fingers, eyes darting around the room, looking for the threat.  
  
But it was just Heero, his partner and friend, sitting up in bed. He took a deep breath and lowered the knife. "Jesus, Ro, don't startle a guy like that... a guy like me like that." His best friend only grunted before getting out of bed and coming over to kneel by Duo's side. Then he realized what Heero had said. "Stop what?"  
  
"Making that sound in the back of your throat." Duo frowned. He hadn't been making- "I don't think you do it consciously. But I haven't heard it since we first started hustling over a year ago."  
  
Oh, right, that noise. The hoarse, frustrated scream of a scared child smothered and controlled to a strangled choking sound. It had always woken Heero up, had always brought him to Duo's bedside.  
  
"Bad job?"  
  
"The worst."  
  
He could hear the hesitation in Heero's next question. "Do you... want to talk about it?"  
  
"No. Thanks, Ro, I just want to forget about it."  
  
"You won't be able to," Heero said bluntly, and Duo had to smile. "You won't sleep. And then you'll be impossible in the morning, worse than Chang; which would be an accomplishment."  
  
Duo knew when he was being baited, just as he knew that Heero thought he'd feel better once he got what was bothering him off his chest. His best friend was only trying to help. So, he took the bait.  
  
"I'll hold the title, easy, 'cause I don't think Chang'll be living here much longer."  
  
Heero tensed. "Why? Where's he going?"  
  
"To kill, Ralph. And that'll get him killed, which is, I think, his goal."  
  
"Wufei wants to die?"  
  
Heero wouldn't stop with the questions, now, so there was no point in trying to keep the events of the evening to himself. Slowly, jerkily, the story came out of him.  
  
"I think so. Ralph violated every scrap of honor that Wufei had been clinging to since he landed in this town. He stepped on it, spat on it."  
  
"How do you know?" Heero asked quietly.  
  
Duo barked a harsh humorless laugh. "I was there. I saw it. And... he made me do it. I didn't want to... but I didn't have any choice. We can't fight Gael like that. We can't just... refuse to do the job. How can we say no? We're in too deep. I had to do it..."  
  
Heero laid cool fingers on Duo's bare shoulder. "Do what, Duo?"  
  
He groaned and barely managed to say it aloud. "We slept together."  
  
"You and Ralph?"  
  
"Me and Wufei. Ralph made it sound like Gael recommended it, to 'take him down a few notches.'"  
  
"You mean you-"  
  
"Yes, Heero,” he snapped. “I had sex with Wufei. We fucked. I nailed him to the bed; I hurt him. There was blood. And he- Ralph he just sat there, loving Wufei's pain, the proud warrior brought down, broken by the cheap whore. I laid him low, taught him a valuable lesson." The self-loathing and mockery in his voice was thick and heavy and he couldn't stop now that he'd started. "He let me do it, too -- let me hurt him. You know Wu, he could have killed me with his pinky finger at any point that evening. But he didn't; he just let it happen." He could feel Heero tensing up with every word they spoke. He was angry, and normally Duo knew better then to tempt Heero's rarely seen but rather infamous temper; however, tonight, he craved it. Wufei had not been angry with him; Wufei had disappeared.  
  
"Have you talked to him?" Heero asked stiffly.  
  
Momentarily confused, Duo stared. “Talked to who?”  
  
“To Wufei, genius.”  
  
Duo shook his head and looked down at his hands. "I tried, when we were cleaning up in the bathroom, but he said 'later,' and he wouldn't look at me the whole ride home. Heero, he... he cut off his hair." Heero's eyes widened in surprise. "I mean, that's a, like a symbol for something, right? That means something bad."  
  
"It's a symbolic death, a severance of ties, mourning."  
  
"That's what I thought. Christ, Heero, what kind of person does that to one of their best friends? Why didn't I just kill the guy where he sat in that fucking armchair? I had my wire; it doesn't ever come out of my braid. I could have done it in less than ten seconds. I let him just... I did whatever he wanted. I basically helped my friend kill himself. I'm as sick as-"  
  
"Duo, stop," Heero said sharply. "You're doing it again. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you who made him cut his hair; it was Gael and it was that john. And, in the end, it was Wufei's choice to do it at all. He was lucky that..." Heero quickly spit out the rest, the words awkward in his mouth. “He was lucky it was you and not them. And I bet he knows that."  
  
Duo blinked. He looked confused and then skeptical. "You're saying I did him a favor, that at least if he was gonna be taken, it should be by someone who cares about him?"  
  
"Yes," Heero answered simply. "What more could we ask for in this business?"  
  
"That our friends not hurt us, not betray our honor, our trust."  
  
Heero shook his head. "You have to talk to him before you make the assumption that you've betrayed him." He took a deep breath. "And now you need to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."  
  
Well, so much for Heero's infamous temper. Duo looked down at his hands. "I can't sleep. My brain won't shut up."  
  
About a year ago, they'd slept in the same bed on many occasions, too distraught and disgusted to ever fall asleep alone with their thoughts. As soon as the job had come easier, they'd stopped, stopped all physical contact, really; both assuming that the other neither wanted nor needed that comfort anymore. Without question, Duo needed it now. Heero gently shoved his best friend and business partner toward the far side of the bed and slid under the covers beside him. Duo did not protest, did not say anything, only accepted the gesture of friendship. They lay facing each other for several minutes, searching for any expression in the darkness.  
  
Finally, "Do you want to know what I think?" Heero's voice puffed warmly on Duo's cheek.  
  
"What."  
  
"I think you were set up. I think that job was designed to mess with us."  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
Duo watched him gather his thoughts. Heero rarely spoke quickly and he never spoke without first considering his words.  
  
"Gael knows us, knows how we relate to each other. He knows how prideful Wufei is, how careful you are around him, and how... protective I am of you. He knows what to do to upset that balance. And I think he wanted to."  
  
"But why do that?" Duo's voice was almost childlike. He yawned and rubbed his nose, his brain finally slowing down into fuzzy, pre-sleep mode. "We've worked for him for years and never given him any trouble. What would be the point of screwing with us?"  
  
"I don't know why he would try to undermine our dynamic. He was the one who put it together in the first place," Heero murmured.  
  
"Well, we can't let it happen, Ro," Duo mumbled. "We've gotta stick together."  
  
Heero nodded and Duo heard stubble whisper against his sheets. He'd always liked Heero's five o'clock shadow, though it was clearly not enough to grow into a full beard. "I imagine it will only get worse from here," Heero muttered.  
  
"Couldn't get much worse than tonight."  
  
"We'll be prepared for the next time."  
  
Duo snorted softly and smiled, on the verge of sleep. "How will we 'prepare?' Make out on the couch? Jerk each other off just to see if we can? Interesting form of practice." He could almost feel Heero's cheeks warm. “Ha. Made you blush, Heero.”  
  
"Go to sleep, Duo. You're rambling."  
  
"Okay." Then he rolled over and was out.  
  
  
**11b. Wufei**  
  
Once more before the law judges over all of us  
Cos in this place you'll see me  
Brace yourself, this goes deep  
I'll show you the secrets the sky and the birds  
Actions speak louder than words  
Stand by me my apprentice  
Be brave, clench fists  
_\- "Turn the Page"_  
  
Wufei lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. The clock read three in the morning. They'd been home for two hours. He'd gone straight to bed, not talking to any of his flat-mates; not even looking at them. He knew that Duo was worried about it him. He should have assured his friend that he was all right, but he just hadn't been up for it, and until about now he hadn't been sure that he was all right. They'd talk about it tomorrow.  
  
For the first hour or so, Wufei could hear Heero and Duo talking, their voices muffled and almost inaudible. He wondered what Duo would say, whether he'd tell Heero about everything that passed between them, or whether he'd keep a few details to himself.  
  
The house was quiet now. He ran his hands through what was left of his hair. He missed it already, but was simultaneously relieved to have it gone. Maybe some day he'd grow it back. When he felt he could.  
  
Going back over the events of the evening, Wufei decided that his prediction had been a bit off. Chang Wufei had not died after he and Duo had sex. Part of him certainly had, but which part? He still felt essentially like himself. He didn't feel like a dirty crawling insect or a rodent, or even a whore for that matter. And he was instantly ashamed that he would even think that sort of transformation would occur. Duo, Heero and Trowa all had sex with men and they were the three strongest people he knew. What was his problem anyway? His body was tired and he hurt. But he, himself, Wufei, felt alive and focused and fierce and a little tingly. Having sex in front of Ralph, at Ralph's behest, had been humiliating and degrading. Ralph would die for that some day. But having sex with Duo, the act itself, didn't bother him like he thought it would. He was not ashamed, didn't feel compromised or broken. He felt stripped down, scoured and cleaned out.  
  
The voice of his clan remained silent throughout his reflection. And that's when he realized where the death had occurred. The Dragon Clan had died along with all its baggage. Cutting off his hair had been their symbolic death, an act of despair, a severance of ties with a clan he had no right to be a part of. At least that's what he thought at the time. But now he knew the actual death took place on that bed with Duo, when all his pride and anguish had been pounded out of him.  
  
So where did this put him now? Where did he fit in? Gael probably thought tonight would break him, that he'd either be dead or a complete waste by morning. Gael probably thought he would turn against Duo, feel betrayed, never trust him again. The Boss had made a tactical error if that had been his plan. Wufei knew he wouldn't have as much trouble with his jobs now. They were just that -- jobs, props occupying his time. Of more concern was the way his stomach did flips every time he thought about kissing Duo, every time he thought about that noise Duo had made in the back of his throat, every time he thought about the feel of Duo's body flush against his. Of more concern was Heero's reaction to all this.


	12. (Quatre and Trowa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**12a. Quatre**  
  
In matching blue raincoats,  
our shoes were our show boats  
we kicked around.  
From stairway to station  
we made a sensation  
with the gadabout crowd.  
And oh, what a bargain,  
we're two easy targets  
for the old men at the off-tracks  
_\- "On the Bus Mall" The Decemberists_  
  
Quatre did not hate his life. This realization dawned on him as he sat at the bus stop, waiting for Trowa to finish a job. It settled around him as he hummed softly and bounced his knee up and down in time with his tune. He smiled when the sun came out.   
  
He and Trowa tried to work out their schedules so that they worked together, but when they didn't like today, it wasn't a big deal. They'd just wait until the other was finished. In the beginning, Trowa had wanted to keep a close eye on Quatre's jobs, make sure they ran smoothly and be there for him when they were over. And Quatre had been grateful because, even though he told himself he didn't care that his new job was sex with strangers, he did care. And without Trowa there, well, it could have gotten ugly -- more for the customer than for himself.  
  
But that was then and this was three months later. Summer was over and the air had turned brisk. He needed to wear a coat out on his jobs, a coat that his new boss, Gael, had provided. It was dark brown leather; incredibly soft and flexible with a quilted lining that kept out the chill. A few days after his whirlwind arrival at the sixth floor flat, a trunk of new clothes had shown up for him, also courtesy of Gael. They all fit him perfectly: snug jeans and corduroys and a bunch of t-shirts that pointed out just how skinny he was. There were almost no dress cloths in the trunk. The others had way more than he did, which led him to believe that he wouldn't be receiving the kind of jobs that required them. High brow clients meant social circles in which the Winner heir might be recognized. So he was stuck with the cheap-shit johns. Fine by him; he'd never liked any of his parents friends anyway.  
  
Today's had been fun. The kid had barely been older than him. Micah was his name. Apparently his friends had gotten him a visit with the new "golden boy" as a birthday present. Micah had been extremely embarrassed. Quatre had smiled and flushed a little that he was known as "golden boy," indeed, that he was known at all. Then they'd gotten naked and goofed off for two hours. They both had fun and they both got laid; all-in-all not a bad deal.  
  
Job's like those weren't bad at all; they were in fact kind of fun. On those jobs, Quatre could feel his growing sexuality, and he embraced it out of sheer curiosity. He felt a sort of smirking joy that he was living and almost enjoying a lifestyle his family would have condemned outright. He took a certain amount of pleasure thinking about his family's reaction to his new life, a life they had forced upon him.   
  
But Quatre knew that these more pleasant jobs were favors from the boss, to keep him from losing it when he walked in on... someone considerably less desirable than a kid like Micah. There were plenty of them as well. On those days Trowa's presence -- in his head if nowhere else -- had been much appreciated. He repeated their conversation whenever he felt that panic rising in his chest.   
  
"Sometimes they frighten me, Trowa. I don't want them to. They're just people, but there are times when... I'm terrified."  
  
"Rightfully so," Trowa had replied in his usual monotone. "That's what he wants. It is all he ever wants." 'He' being the Boss. "He wants to own you. And you have to let him, but he doesn't have to own all of you."  
  
And then he would practice what Trowa had taught him. He slowed his breathing and retreated into his own head, focused on living entirely in his own skull. There he could see every facet of himself, every bit that made up Quatre Winner. And when he knew that he was about to face a particularly unpleasant client, he gathered all the parts of himself that could be dangerous and walked them through his brain to someplace safe. He locked them away and when he opened his eyes, he was not afraid.  
  
This had not worked at first, obviously. It had taken practice and conditioning. For the first several times he was on his own, without Trowa, nearly every job had left him hiding in some grimy hotel bathroom, rocking himself back and forth, or taking marathon showers in an attempt to scrub off the smell, or just screaming his head off for awhile. Not very dignified, but therapeutic nonetheless. He knew his flat-mates did not approve of these coping mechanisms, but they did not suggest many others. Probably because they didn't know any; probably because they'd done the same thing when they'd started.  
  
Well, he didn't do that anymore. Once Trowa's mind partitioning exercises had started working, Quatre felt that he could operate like a fairly normal person -- even if normal meant hustling.   
  
He stood up when he saw Trowa walking toward him and gave him a small wave. His friend waved back and Quatre thought he saw a smile curl the corner of his mouth. He liked the way Trowa moved, liked the lines of his body. The tall Frenchman was dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a thick gray turtleneck sweater; however, even with all that cloth, Quatre recognized the muscles and movements of someone capable of swift and deadly violence. It was not something he ever missed; he'd seen it in his other three flat-mates immediately. Watching Trowa move made him simultaneously nervous and excited, a feeling he liked.  
  
Not wanting to wait any longer, he jogged across the street to meet Trowa half-way, an easy smile spreading across his mouth. "Hey, you," he said as they neared each other. Trowa closed the distance between them and, being 10 centimeters taller, easily picked him up and spun him around a few times before setting him gently on his feet. Quatre laughed, for those few seconds feeling about half his 18 years. He swayed dizzily for a moment then found his balance and went up on his toes to leave a feather-light kiss on Trowa's cheek.  
  
"Hello," the Frenchman murmured. "I'm glad to see you."  
  
Quatre gave his brightest smile because he knew Trowa liked to see it and grabbed his arm to pull him out of the way of an oncoming truck.  
  
**12b. Trowa**  
  
And we laughed off the quick tricks  
the old men with limp dicks  
on the colonnades of the waterfront park.  
As 4 in the morning came on, cold and boring,  
we huddled close  
in the bus stop enclosure enfolding.  
Our hands tightly holding.  
_-"On the Bus Mall" The Decemberists_  
  
Trowa let himself be led across the street, out of traffic, eyes still somewhat dazzled by Quatre's smile. Every time he saw it, he told himself that it was only for his benefit, that his friend could not possibly be that happy, that darker currents ran beneath that bright surface. But every time, he felt himself further and further disarmed. His heart and stomach made strange little leaps and he knew he was in trouble, sliding down a very slippery and dangerous slope.   
  
They reached the bus stop and Quatre finally dropped his arm. Trying to think of something to say, Trowa resorted to talk about work, something he knew they shared, the only thing they'd really talked about in the three months they'd shared a room.  
  
"Work went well, I take it?" he asked.  
  
Quatre shrugged. "Whatever gave you that impression?" he returned innocently. "I'm just this happy to see you."  
  
Trowa smiled, but then his eyes narrowed. "Did it not go well? Did something happen?"  
  
The boy shook his head, white-blond hair sparkling in the mid-day sun. "No, it went fine. Micah was very nice -- shy, but friendly. Very self-conscious about the size of his... you know."  
  
Trowa nodded sagely. "And?"  
  
"Well, he really didn't have anything to worry about in that department."  
  
Trowa laughed out loud, a rare and foreign sound to his own ears. However, he'd found himself laughing more since Quatre had come. He knew the boy liked it. They were each pretending a little for the other's benefit.  
  
The bus arrived and they boarded silently, taking seats next to each other. Quatre turned to watch the houses go by and Trowa's thoughts turned inward, back to the conversation he'd had with Heero a few days before. It'd been right after another run-in with Cecile, and Trowa had been cleaning out the shallow slice running along-side Heero's shoulder blade tattoo. The curve of the cut was perfectly even with the ink; she was an artist, no doubt. Heero couldn't reach around to bandage it, so once again Trowa played nurse and did it for him. And that's when Heero had told him about the conversation he'd had with Quatre, about his and Duo's electronics store heist, about the computer he'd built and about their plan. Trowa had known that Heero and Duo were up to something, and he knew he'd help them however he could. But he was still a little unnerved by the role he'd volunteered to play. He wanted to do it, was willing to take the risk; he just wanted to be sure Quatre knew the story, too.  
  
"Have anything to do this afternoon?" Trowa asked.  
  
Quatre turned away from the window and back to his friend, giving him a weighing stare. "Don't think so; not unless I go out to pick up some extra cash."  
  
Trowa swallowed a sad smile. Quatre had learned very quickly. "What would you think of a run through the park and maybe a little training?"  
  
Quatre cocked his head to the side. "More training? I think I've got it down for the most part. You said yourself adaptability was the most important thing."  
  
"You're right; it is. But...just come with me. There are a few other things you should know."  
  
+  
  
Neither spoke much as they jogged leisurely through the city park, simply enjoying the fall air and the feeling of their bodies in fluid, easy motion. Then Trowa felt his friend's eyes on him and turned a questioning look in his direction.  
  
"You know," Quatre said with a smile, "I like to see your face. Your hair looks good back."  
  
Trowa shrugged. His hair, held by a dark blue bandana, poked out in dark auburn spikes at the back of his head where the material ended. He though it looked ridiculous like this, but better than having it in his face when he ran. "Thanks. I'm not cutting it, though. So don't ask."  
  
Quatre held up his hands in protest. "I wouldn't dream of it. I know how much our group needs their hair. You'd think your identity depended on it."  
  
"Would you like to dye that pretty blond hair of yours black? We could do it today, if it means nothing to you."  
  
Quatre's eyes widened. "Oh, well, no, I couldn't. My clients know me by my blond hair."  
  
"You care what your customers think?"  
  
Quatre shrugged. "I'm not dyeing it."  
  
"I'm not cutting mine."  
  
"Can you imagine Duo without his braid?"  
  
Trowa snorted softly. "Absolutely not. He wouldn't be...Duo without it." Quatre nodded. Even though it was only hair, it was intrinsic to not just his image, but to, well, his identity. "You still haven't talked to him, have you."  
  
Wiping sweat off his forehead as he ran, Quatre frowned. "No. And he doesn't show any interest in talking to me, either." They turned off the path and struck out up a large hill.   
  
"You should talk first. He blames himself for getting you into this mess, even though it is in no way his fault."  
  
This was delicate territory. Quatre said nothing in response and they concentrated on sprinting up the hill. Trowa easily outstripped him, and waited for him at the top, drinking in the sight of Quatre's easy athleticism. When the boy reached the summit, he punched Trowa's shoulder and gasped out, "No fair... longer legs." Trowa grinned.   
  
They stood for several moments regaining their breath until finally Quatre shrugged. "And I know it's not Duo's fault. My brain knows that. I also know that my sisters are not going to come for me. I know they're the ones who betrayed me, but..." He laced his fingers together on top of his head and turned away. "Trowa, you understand why I haven't wanted to... exactly reach out to him."  
  
"I do, yes," Trowa murmured. "But-"  
  
"He was seducing me. He was showering me with all this attention and dancing with me and... he was getting paid to do it! He told me I was beautiful and amazing and I believed that he meant it. And then, then we were all taken out and put in that car and no one would tell me anything and no one would help me when that asshole threw me on the ground. Heero had a *gun* and ... and you were the only one who tried to make me feel better." He took a deep breath. "Duo didn't do anything wrong, really, but I still felt betrayed."  
  
Trowa pulled him into a loose hug. "You're breaking my heart. Please stop."  
  
"I should be going to college this year. I had a room assignment and my courses picked out and everything."  
  
"You won't be doing this forever. That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Quatre pulled away and gave him a questioning look. "Heero is... he's planning something, as I think you know. Duo is in on it, and Wufei is too. And so am I."  
  
"And I'm with you," Quatre said automatically. Trowa smiled, a bit uneasily, but plowed ahead. "We're all in because Heero won't leave anyone behind. He's looking to move up or out of the Family and that takes...balls. And probably violence."  
  
"I know. I gave him the idea. And it's a ridiculous idea, extremely dangerous."  
  
"...I know. These next few months will be... difficult because I'll be the one infiltrating Gael's business. I'll be the physical presence while Heero snoops around on his computers."  
  
Quatre was shaking his head. "No, Trowa, that's crazy. It's too risky. I'll talk to Heero and we'll think of another way to get inside the-"  
  
"It's already started. Heero has already begun his investigation; he's already learning his hacking software. And I told him I would do this; I'm the only one who can. You're too new; Duo's too loud and Wufei is too..."  
  
"Wufei."  
  
"Right."  
  
Quatre give him a small sad smile and reached out to run pale fingers along his arm. "I've never met anyone as careful and as guarded as you; I know you're perfect for this, but..."  
  
Trowa shook his head sharply, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't bring Quatre out here to talk about his own virtues. He came here to test him.  
  
"Quatre, if Heero and I fail, if we're caught, Gael's retaliation to our betrayal will be swift and ruthless. And you won't be spared. So, I wanted to ask if you..."  
  
"Know how to handle myself?" Quatre finished, a strange grin twisting his lips. He thumbed his nose. "Yes."  
  
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Really. I would not have guessed."  
  
The boy folded his arms across his chest. "And why's that, Mr. Barton? Because I'm small and pale and happy and innocent?"  
  
Trowa mirrored his stance and tried to return some levity to the situation "That about sums it up."  
  
"Please, I could take you down so many different ways, you wouldn't know which end was up."  
  
"Well, what can you do?"  
  
"I know how to shoot a gun, if that's what you're asking. But my trainer -- a childhood friend -- he taught me knives, too."  
  
Trowa nodded. "Interesting."  
  
"Useful," Quatre added. "I might lose a gun, but my knives..."  
  
"You used to sleep with them didn't you."  
  
"Still do."  
  
Trowa started at this. "But... where-"  
  
"My youthful modesty, Mr. Barton. Have you ever seen me get dressed?"   
  
Trowa shook his head, brain lurching a bit. How well did he know Quatre, really? He looked at the boy's knobby elbows and his sharp collar bone. What sort of potential energy waited coiled up around those bones? "What else?" he asked a bit faintly.  
  
The grin was back. "Care to find out?"


	13. (Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**13\. Wufei**  
  
Salt, sweat  
Sugar on the asphalt  
Our hearts littering the topsoil  
Tune in and  
We can get the last call  
Our lives, our coal  
Salt, sweat  
Sugar on the asphalt  
Our hearts littering the topsoil  
_\- "Bleed American" Jimmy Eat World_  
  
He watched the door close behind Heero and Duo as they left the flat. They both wore gym clothes; loose-fitting sweats and t-shirts. Duo had a bag slung across his chest, pointy objects pushing against the thick nylon. Wufei lowered his book. What did they have stashed in there? Weapons? He frowned at the closed door. Books? Kitchen appliances? Right. He snorted and, leapt off the couch towards his room, quickly changing into his trackies. They were going out to spar; he jut knew it. And damned if he was going to let them get in a training session without him. Jogging down the stares, he emerged from their building just in time to see them turning the corner. He thought about catching up then decided he'd rather walk in silences, away from Duo's incessant chatter.  
  
Not that any of it would be directed at him anyway. Duo had barely spoken to him in the weeks following their run-in with Ralph. He stuck to his bedroom mostly; talking only to Heero and Trowa. Wufei could understand his reluctance. That nightmare of an evening would haunt both of them for a long time. But Duo didn't know that Wufei harbored no ill will toward him. 'You are not my enemy,' he thought. 'You are my liberator.'  
  
Wufei watched Duo pull a basketball from the bag and start dribbling as they walked. He figured they were headed for the local playground since, being the weekend, there were likely to be fewer kids around. Up ahead, Duo dribbled the ball between his legs and began dodging in front of and behind his companion. Heero showed no signs of acknowledging his friend's antics, but continued his unhurried, measured steps toward the playground. Wufei could not suppress the slight twinge of envy at their easy friendship. It went unquestioned and deep. Wufei had never known a relationship like theirs, had never had their companionship. Any attempts made by his clan or his wife were automatically rebuffed as unnecessary distractions to his schooling and training. It wasn't until he'd landed in that flat with only a trunk full of clothes he didn't want and his meditation mat that he felt the sharp ache of loneliness.  
  
The two friends had by then reached the small playground, Duo still ducking and weaving around Heero's legs. Wufei could swear he heard Heero growl and then he sprang into action, neatly stealing the ball and laying it up into the hoop. The ragged chain net clinked as the ball fell through and was back in Heero's hands before Duo could yank the strap of his bag over his head.  
  
"Oi!" He shouted. "I wasn't ready."  
  
"Then get ready," Heero grunted, dribbling the ball back to half court. Duo didn't need a second invitation. Wufei watched from across the street, seated on a convenience store's stoop. He'd never had any interest in competitive sports, preferring instead solitary expressions of his athleticism: running, martial arts, violent run-ins with the punching bag. But watching his friends engage in this simple game, limbs flailing, bodies twisting and leaping in controlled chaos, he felt his competitive urges rear up. He wanted to play, play until he won.  
  
It was obvious that neither of them had received any training, nor watched professional basketball. Instead they played with a feral, child-like intensity. The concept of the "foul" had clearly never been broached. Within minutes, both young men had bloody elbows and knees. Wufei could see the bright red splash of color against skin from where he sat. It made his palms itch. For the thousandth time, he ran long fingers through his hair, attempting to pull it back. Silky tufts of it stood up everywhere. Grinning ruefully, he thought what a picture he must be compared to his former self. He no longer looked like a member of the Dragon Clan -- proud, stately and cold. He was a scruffy, wiry hustler, a dragon who carried himself with unflagging pride, but who now belonged to a different clan if only he could work up the nerve to offer a flag of truce.  
  
Having had enough of the cold stoop and his voluntary isolation, Wufei rose and stepped out into the sunshine. He crossed the street just as Duo sank a free throw from the three-point line. The young man let out a wild 'whoop!' of joy and did two neat cartwheels, knobby knees showing through bloody holes in his sweatpants. Heero's teeth flashed white in a quick smile as he grabbed the ball and made a similar shot from another point along the line. Duo frowned.  
  
"Ever the showoff, Yuy," he said loftily.  
  
"Ever the victory dancer, Maxwell," came the automatic retort. "If you spent less time gloating and more time-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I don't need that lecture again. Why doncha give Wu a shot. Looks like he wants to join in."  
  
Wufei swallowed hard as they turned in unison to see him standing at the edge of the court, arms loose and ready at his sides. Heero tossed him the ball and waited, hands on his hips.  
  
Wufei easily caught the ball and held it against his chest. Letting his fingers grow accustomed to the worn down nubbiness of the rubber, he watched his friends watching him. Duo wore his usual grin, though Wufei could tell it was a bit forced. He ran his sneaker over loose stones on the black-top, shoulders tense. They'd barely looked at each other in two weeks. It'd felt odd and... wrong these past days not having Duo with him. Even though they'd only been together that one night, Wufei felt his absence acutely, like a band aid that had been ripped off too quickly. Looking at him now was a reminder of that sting.  
  
Heero held Wufei's gaze for a moment then redirected his attention to a bit of gravel embedded in his scraped palm. Wufei could see blood in the creases of his fingers.  
  
"I, um, I don't know how to play by your rules," he said finally. The statement hung in the air, more loaded than he'd intended it to be. All three of them knew it wasn't just an admission of ignorance to the logic of their brutal basketball game. Heero shot a glance at Duo, who frowned briefly then shrugged. The grin went back up.  
  
"We'll teach you. Hope you don't mind a couple cuts and bruises. No stitches, though."  
  
Heero nodded, looking up from his bloody hand. "No hospitals."  
  
"That's acceptable," Wufei acknowledged, stepping onto the blacktop and beginning to dribble. Heero gave up on his hand and dropped back by the hoop. Duo was in Wufei's face immediately, wide pale features lit up and flushed with the cold, adrenalin and a challenge. They hadn't been able to communicate over the past weeks, but they could do this. Wufei felt a grin tugging his mouth as he let his body slide into the pace of the game. He spun away from Duo and bounded toward the hoop. But then Heero, who'd been seemingly idle, suddenly hip-checked him into the basket pole and snatched the ball from surprised fingers. Wufei winced as his shoulder connected with solid metal, but threw himself back at Heero who was about to take a shot. Heero's eye's widened when he saw the dragon headed for him, then narrowed to slits and darted to the side a moment before he passed the ball to Duo.  
  
"Two against one?" Wufei snarled. He spun in time to see Duo sink another free throw. Skinny fists beat the air as the young man crowed in triumph.  
  
"You're new," Heero said simply.  
  
Wufei grinned. "That's acceptable."  
  
+  
  
The basketball game was short and brutal for several reasons.  
  
1) While Wufei quickly caught onto the rhythm of play, he could not hope to match his opponents' timing and teamwork. They'd probably been playing this bloody sport since before they could ride a bicycle... if they'd ever had the opportunity to ride one. Wufei's knowledge of their past was spotty, but he knew it involved homelessness, hunger and thievery.  
  
2) Wufei's growing frustration at his inability to best his two friends was growing more obvious in his increased violence.  
  
3) Neither Heero nor Duo particularly wanted to be on the same team anyway, so before too long, all three of them forgot the basketball and drew the afternoon to its logical conclusion: repeated attempts to get each other on the ground.  
  
Anyone watching from the street may have thought they were genuinely trying to hurt each other, and to a limited extent they were, but then Duo would burst out laughing and Wufei would swear elaborately in Mandarin and the tension would evaporate. The young men moved so smoothly and quickly that it was difficult to tell whether their sparring had been rehearsed. They all fought differently: Wufei in his formal style that somehow remained infinitely adaptable, Heero in a tight and deadly manner that was still graceful, and Duo in his characteristically sinuous and nearly feline style that was just as lethal as the others.  
  
Two of them took on the third, forcing him to defend himself from all sides. Because of this Duo endured many a sharp tug on his braid until, snarling, he put it down the back of his shirt. For payback, he kicked Heero's legs out from under him and when Wufei barked a laugh at the young man's surprised expression, Duo neatly grabbed his shirt and jerked it over his head, effectively binding his arms and blinding him. Congratulating himself on his efficient work, he brought the young man to the ground by tangling his fright foot with Wufei's left and giving his chest a hard shove. Two cartwheels later and he was pinned in the grass, his two angry friends holding him down.  
  
And so it went until finally... "Alright, alright, I give up!" Duo shouted, having suffered yet another flattening at the hands of his friends. "My old bones can't take it any more."  
  
"You're 20," Heero grunted, collapsing onto the grass beside his felled companion.  
  
"I'll feel twice that in the morning," the youth muttered, struggling to pull his braid out of a now ripped and muddy shirt.  
  
Wufei sank to his knees and then fell over backwards, intensely grateful that they'd finally stopped fighting, though he'd be the last to say it out loud. He'd known that Heero was good, had sparred with him in the past, but this was different. Adding Duo to the mix increased Heero's ferocity somehow. They were all more aware -- offense, defense, freedom of movement, heightened brain activity -- God, he felt like he needed to breathe more. And not just because he was out of breath, but because the stifling mood of the past weeks had lifted. The silence was not painful or awkward. He looked over at Duo where he lay sprawled in the grass, caught his eye and smirked. Duo looked away quickly, then back again, a tentative smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Even with a bloody lip and mud on his nose and forehead, Duo was... he was striking.  
  
And he was strong. Wufei winced at the new bruises forming on his ribs. Much stronger than he'd originally thought. And fast. That kid could dodge and retreat and attack and slither out of his grasp as fast as Heero and with considerably more finesse. Heero did what he had to do; Duo made it look good.  
  
The events of the last couple hours, their dangerous play, this was all new to Wufei. "Playfully lethal" was not an adjective he would have used to describe either of his two flat mates before today. He grinned to himself. He liked it. "So, what was in the bag, Maxwell?" he finally asked, propping himself on his elbows to eye the nylon pack across the playground. "Why didn't you bring them out when we were sparring?"  
  
Both Duo and Heero shot him strange glances. "Bring them out?" Duo echoed.  
  
"Yes, maybe we could have used them. They're weapons, right?"  
  
Heero snorted and Duo rolled his eyes. "Itchy trigger finger, Wu?"  
  
"Well, aren't they?"  
  
Heero went back to picking gravel out of his palm. "Library books," he said derisively. "We were going to walk by on our way home."  
  
"Oh." Wufei frowned, wondering how he'd never spotted library books in the apartment. "Anything good?"  
  
+  
  
When they returned to the apartment, Duo headed straight for the shower. Wufei glanced down at his own blood and dirt-covered clothes, then over at Heero's. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for including me in your training. It was good to compete...to spar with you again."  
  
Heero nodded. "Likewise. I want us all to be ready for any... any extreme circumstances that might crop up over the next months. You're a good fighter and a good partner. You will protect the others as well as yourself." Wufei didn't really know how to respond to that, so he looked at his feet. Then Heero jumped slightly as blood from a cut over his eye dripped into his eyelashes and Wufei took the opportunity to leave the room in search of his first aid kit and a wet towel.  
  
"I'll help you with that cut, Yuy. I'm the one who gave it to you, I think."  
  
They stood by the kitchen sink in silence as Wufei wiped the blood from Heero's forehead. Wufei kept his eyes on the cut, but he could feel Heero's eyes on his face. When he turned to throw out the paper towel, Heero grabbed his elbow and pulled him back, giving him a thorough once-over. Eyes wide in surprise, Wufei tried not to drop the bloody rag in his hand.  
  
"Are you alright... Chang?"  
  
Dark blue eyes rooted him to the floor and he stiffened, refusing to look away under such intense scrutiny. "Uh... I'm fine. Nothing that won't heal up in a couple days."  
  
Heero nodded sharply and then held still when Wufei swabbed antiseptic over the cut, not flinching as the dragon applied pressure to the band aid adhesive. He threw away the wrapper and then returned his gaze to Heero's. "You're... okay too? Not seriously hurt? It's been awhile since I've had a suitable sparring partner. I may have been a little-"  
  
"You did not hurt me, Chang," he said with a slightly cocky smirk. "That was a game. Duo and I play rough, but not to injure. You played by that rule, too."  
  
Wufei nodded and then hesitated. The words tumbled from his mouth before he could haul them back, the need to speak them taking him by surprise. "Duo... he played by the rules, not today, but... before, with Ralph." Heero stiffened and his eyes narrowed, but he said nothing at the abruptness of the comment. "I've been wanting to tell him that he's done nothing wrong, but... he doesn't come near- he won't talk to me. I thought maybe you could- "  
  
Heero shook his head, no. "You should tell him. Just corner him. He'll talk."  
  
"But-"  
  
"With food... or with a question about shoes. Or ask him to cut your hair. You could use a trim."  
  
"But I don't need any-"  
  
"I think he just turned off the shower." Wufei glanced over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door, then back to Heero. Intense blue eyes again examined his face, inch by inch. "You should definitely talk to him. He blames himself for what happened. It's fucking him up and I don't want either of you taken out by some piece of shit john." He paused. "And if you want help killing said piece of shit and disposing of his remains, just let me know."  
  
Wufei nodded mutely. Just then, the door swung open and a clean, bandaged up Duo emerged, wrapped only in a towel. Out of respect and to hide his flush, Wufei looked away. When he looked back up, both Heero and Duo had disappeared into the bedroom. Wufei hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he examined his countenance. Then after he'd assessed his injuries, he turned on the shower and stripped. His wiry body looked like hell, but, for the second time in under a month, he felt alive and fierce and just a little tingly.  
  
+  
  
Wufei stood outside Duo's bedroom, fist raised to knock. Heero had gone out for groceries and their other roommates were working, so if there was any time to do this, it was now. Privacy was hard to come by in the small flat, so important conversations usually had one or two inadvertent eavesdroppers. Now was the time. Now's the time. Now's the time. Now's the-  
  
"Whoever's out there, the door's not locked," Duo's voice rang out from inside and Wufei nearly jumped out of his skin. Scowling at his own cowardice, Wufei ran a hand through his cropped hair, took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom.  
  
Duo lay on his bed, feet propped up against the wall, sketchbook resting on his thighs. Sketchbook? "I didn't know you drew," he blurted. It was all he could manage. Way to go, Chang.  
  
Duo didn't bother to twist his head around to see who was addressing him. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks, and how are you?" Letting his legs flop back onto the bed, Duo rolled over and smirked at him. But Wufei could not take his eyes off a charcoal sketch of... well, it looked suspiciously like him. Duo closed the book and sat up.  
  
"Yes, and I can draw, pretty well, in my humble opinion." He tucked a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. "I imagine there are actually quite a few things we don't know about each other, in reference to your earlier greeting."  
  
Wufei nodded absently, thinking, 'I don't know these people at all. First, Yuy and Maxwell are brats on the basketball court, then they're carrying around a bag full of art and computer books, then Yuy concerns himself with someone else besides himself and Maxwell, and now Maxwell is an artist! A talented one, by the looks of it. "How long have you been drawing?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "Since I could scrounge up something to draw on -- I imagine about as long as you've been doing those slick martial arts moves of yours."  
  
"Um... that's a long time." Stop stalling, coward. Duo shrugged and looked at him, clearly waiting for him to state his reason for being in the sanctuary of his bedroom. "Have you shown any of it?" _Stop stalling!_  
  
"Nah. They're only sketches. No one wants to see what comes out of a street rat's brain, anyway."  
  
Wufei let his sense of humor out of its cage in hopes of breaking the awkward mood. "I don't know; 'Tortured Artist' is in these days. Or so I hear. Your questionable honor would be seen as romantic and tragic -- very hip." Duo snorted and didn't seem offended by the tentative joke.  
  
"Fuck your honor," he said automatically. Then his eyes widened in horror and he froze. "Oh, Wu, I-"  
  
The dragon cleared his throat and made an attempt at a smile. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."  
  
Duo looked vaguely ill. "I'm so stupid -- I'm real sorry."  
  
"Don't be. When have you ever known me to be so easily offended by an insult to my honor?"  
  
Duo stared at him without comprehension. "Only every single day and night since I met you. Obviously."  
  
Wufei grimaced. "Oh...Walked right into that one, didn't I."  
  
Duo looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Are you...? Was that a- an attempt at humor?"  
  
Wufei looked up at the ceiling as though for guidance, then back at his friend. "Yes?"  
  
"Who are you and what have you done with the grouchy dragon?"  
  
"Did it not work?" Bad sense of humor, bad!  
  
"On some level. But I'm still stuck on the fact that you're not hating me for insulting you." He paused. "Or... do you hate me? You would be completely justified if you never wanted to see me again. I mean after-"  
  
"Duo-"  
  
"-everything that happened -- what I did to you-"  
  
"You did nothing wrong; I don't regret any of it."  
  
"-I should have just killed that fucker where he sat. It woulda been so easy, but I was scared. And what on earth do you mean you don't regret it?" He looked up at Wufei, a pleading, tortured expression, twisting his features into an unfamiliar shape. "Wu- you cut your hair. You're in mourning. I hurt you, violated your honor and pride and ... trust, worst of all. I made you bleed! How can you _not_ hate me?"  
  
"Because-" Wufei looked around, frustrated. He didn't want to pace. "May I sit down?" Without a word, Duo scooted over so he could sit next to him on the bed. Feeling better talking to him on the same level, he placed his hands on his knees and tried to remember what he'd planned to say. "That night, Ralph humiliated me and you. And he will pay for it. Heero volunteered to help."  
  
Duo raised his hand. "I'm in."  
  
"But that was a client, not you. We were... working. We had no choice then, no rational choice anyway. Duo... what happened that night, when we..." His throat closed. Duo was carefully studying his fingers. "I thought that I would die that night. I thought that would be the end of me."  
  
He started when gentle fingers touched ragged tufts of hair, smoothing them down. "Well, wasn't it?" Duo's voice was soft and low.  
  
"I think so, yes." Those fingers flinched away, and Wufei rushed to complete his thought. "But only part of me, the part that belonged to my clan, the part that was ashamed of what we do. That part died. But... this sounds ridiculous. I, the rest of me, was sort of... freed. And I owe that to you."  
  
Duo finally looked up, an incredulous frown pulling down the side of his mouth. "Wufei, have you lost your mind?"  
  
A shrug. "Quite possibly. I just know that when I stood there in the bathroom with you... it wasn't over. I had survived, the strongest part of me had survived. In retrospect, that's why I cut my hair, to be rid of all the garbage I arrived with. It sounds trite, I know, but Duo, what I really wanted to tell you was, it's not your fault. I don't want you to blame yourself or feel bad about what happened. In all honesty, I should be grateful it was you, someone I trust. That's really the best we can hope for in our line of work... to be with people we trust."  
  
Duo opened his mouth and then shook his head in wonder. "That's just what Heero said -- almost _exactly_ what he said." He paused and scratched his head, pulling the braid into his lap. "Did you talk to him about this?"  
  
Wufei snorted. "God, no." He decided against mentioning their brief conversation while Duo was in the shower. "He's looking out for your interests, not mine. I didn't think he'd particularly care how I felt." Then he paused, remembering the weighing look he'd gotten from Heero and the careful scrutiny for injuries. That look had been new.  
  
Duo pulled off his elastic tie and re-braided the end of the long rope of hair. "You'd be surprised how much he cares, Wu. I'm surprised every day. Especially lately. This thing that he's planning... it's got him worried and as a result, I think he's more tuned in to what we're all thinking and feeling. Bizarre, I know, especially for someone like Heero. But, we're his family. Neither of us ever had one so..."  
  
"Well, I did," Wufei muttered. "And they didn't turn out to be worth much, I'm coming to realize. So, I am thankful for any feeling of protection and belonging I can get."  
  
Duo looked up at him and gave him a measuring look, one that Wufei could not interpret, one that made him nervous. "I like to think that you belong," Duo murmured. "I want us to be friends and I don't want a disaster like Ralph to fuck any of it up."  
  
"It didn't," Wufei confirmed a little too quickly to his own ears.  
  
"And..." an evil gleam came into Duo's luminous eyes. Apparently this kid was made of Teflon: nothing stuck to him for too long. "I'm apparently responsible for your earth-shattering sexual awakening which, granted, is odd, but is also real flattering." Wufei tried to stutter out a retort, to back pedal, to deny _something_ at least, but Duo clamped a hand over his mouth and silenced him. "And you got a new haircut out of the deal. I mean, don't get me wrong, your hair long was great and maybe you can grow it out again sometime -- because that night at the club you looked amazing -- but now, I dig the short due. It suits you. Dark, sinister, mysterious, severe." He paused. "Definitely sexy."  
  
Wufei found that he could barely breath, partly because Duo's hand was suffocating him, but also because his words were making his lungs seize up. Duo had always teased him about his manners, his temper, his height, how obsessively he practiced his forms and how often he went for marathon runs. It was their dynamic, this constant good-natured critiquing. But today, it felt different. This ribbing about _them_ , what they'd done that night; it brought back a host of memories he'd been trying to bury. And it wasn't over.  
  
"Am I embarrassing you yet, Wu? I think the new cut will attract some exciting new clientele for you, maybe a few more ladies...if you're into that kinda thing. But, hell, who am I to judge. Either way you'll be a... Wu?" Duo paused. "You're blushing and pale at the same time. I didn't know that was possible for someone with your enviable complexion."  
  
He removed his hand and Wufei took a grateful breath. "Please don't do that," he murmured.  
  
"Do what?" Duo asked simply.  
  
Wufei struggled. "Don't talk about... me like that, the way I look and... It's not important, and it makes me uncomfortable."  
  
Duo's violet eyes, suddenly sober, looked him over with critical scrutiny. "It shouldn't," he said thoughtfully. "It's just you -- the way you carry yourself, your attitude. Nothing to be uncomfortable about."  
  
Wufei squirmed and cast a sidelong glance at the sketchbook laying innocently on the bedspread. "Why do you bother noticing these things about me, about people? Is it-" He looked again at the sketchbook. "Have you been -- do you -- draw me?"  
  
Now it was Duo's turn to look uncomfortable. He grabbed the book and held it protectively against his chest.  
  
"You don't have to answer that," Wufei said quickly, startled by his friend's sudden and uncharacteristic embarrassment.  
  
Duo shrugged and ventured a smile. It came out more like a twitch. "It's okay, Wu. I don't mind." He tossed the braid back over his shoulder and then, to Wufei's surprise opened the sketchbook. He turned to a rough drawing of Quatre, the boy's fine features rendered in soft yet precise lines. He looked sad, haunted, despairing. Wufei looked up at his friend.  
  
"I've never seen him like this. He's always smiling."  
  
"I've seen this expression, several times. He keeps up that smile for our benefit, whether to keep us thinking he's happy, or so we'll leave him alone, or for Trowa -- I don't know. He hides a lot. And I'm pretty sure he thinks no none sees this side of him." Wufei nodded his understanding, knowing that he rarely looked in Quatre's direction, more concerned with his own awkwardness than to notice anyone else's misery.  
  
Duo turned a few more pages and showed him a much more detailed drawing of a sleeping man. He was naked and, judging by the wrinkles around his eyes, probably in his late 40s. "Who is this man?" he asked.  
  
Duo flashed a gentle grin. "He's one of favorites. Paul. I think he's half in love with me. I see him a couple times a month -- pays the big bucks for a whole day."  
  
A few weeks ago, Wufei would have recoiled at the fact that Duo would harbor any affection for a john. Now, he examined the man's harsh features out of simple curiosity; his deep set eyes, severe nose and thin line of a mouth. His cheek bones stood out in stark contrast to the shadows beneath them. And yet, despite the severity of his countenance, the man was vulnerable, his angles softened in sleep. Wufei could tell that Duo cared for him.  
  
Duo quickly flipped through several sketches of Heero, a blush darkening his pale cheeks. Wufei read 'private' in that expression. He whole-heartedly agreed. He didn't particularly want to see those pictures either, instinctively knowing it would be wrong to gaze upon such a tangible representation of his friends' relationship.  
  
Duo showed him a drawing of Trowa, the man's long frame hunched over... an accordion? "I've never seen or heard him play before," Wufei murmured in wonder.  
  
Duo nodded. "A great many things we don't know about each other. I don't think he knows I was watching. He doesn't even play it for Quatre."  
  
"Then how did you-"  
  
"Stumble upon such a rare and lovely picture? That is the important question." Duo smirked at him. "Always be on your guard, Chang Wufei, for I am a master of stealth, even when in plain sight." And with that, he turned the page to a detailed rendering of the very young man sitting next to him.  
  
Wufei's mouth fell open and his heart stopped. He felt the bed beneath him vanish, felt himself plummeting in freefall into dangerous darkness. He blinked several times, anchoring his hands firmly in the bedspread to be sure that his eyes were open and he was in fact still in Duo's room. They were and he was. And Duo was looking at him with a strange and secret smile.  
  
"Do you like it?" he asked softly.  
  
Wufei felt himself nodding, though he wasn't at all sure he did like the drawing. It was a view from the waist up, Duo's view...of him on a bed, his black hair spread out around his head like some silken halo. God, it was from that night. One arm reached tentatively upward out of the picture. 'Toward Duo,' he thought, brain stumbling and faltering. 'I'm touching him. He drew me touching him.' His other arm lay across his chest, hand balled into a fist. He could see in the shadowing that his back arched slightly. But his expression drew most of his attention. Duo had perfectly captured the emotions and sensations of that night: mouth partially open, lips dark from bruising kisses, cheeks flushed, and eyes... his onyx eyes open wide, gazing upward in fear, apprehension, lust, excitement, and need. It was all there, staring up at him, throwing him back into that night: the smoothness of Duo's skin, the soft blanket underneath him, the sound of their harsh breathing, of Duo's whispered assurances, his gasped-out replies, the smell of skin and sweat, the taste of wine on Duo's lips and tongue. It filled Wufei's mind in a heady rush, drowning him in remembered sensations.  
  
Dragging his eyes away from the drawing, he closed them quickly before seeking out Duo's eyes. Yes, he did like the picture. It left him winded and exposed. Duo had captured him, preserved him on paper; Wufei in the process, in the throws of his rebirth. "Yes, I like it," he whispered.  
  
Duo's wide violet eyes held his in a gaze he could not break away from; then he nodded once. "In answer to your question, I notice you, pay very close attention to your attitude and the way you carry yourself, because I care a lot about them and you. The emotions you express and what you show me make a very deep impression. I owe it to myself and to you to put that down on paper. It's a record of my feelings... and yours. Do you understand?"  
  
Yes, it made too much sense. And because Duo had laid himself bare by showing Wufei the drawings, Wufei felt he owed similar honesty. "This picture of me... that is what really happened that night. It was what I felt. Ralph was not in the picture; he was nowhere in my mind. There was only you and me... and what we did. I don't know how you saw that."  
  
Duo would still not let Wufei lower his eyes. "Master of stealth, remember?"  
  
"So it would seem."  
  
Finally Duo glanced away and back down at the drawing. Wufei let out a small sigh of relief. "This picture of you... it's right before we had sex, right before I hurt you." Wufei moved to protest, but Duo cut him off. "Right before Ralph reasserted his presence as a grade A, 1st class dickhead. Right before he made me hurt you. But those few minutes before then, I wanted to remember... how you looked, and how you looked at me."  
  
Wufei cleared his throat, enchanted by Duo's words, not wanting this moment of honesty to end. "Those were good minutes," he said hoarsely.  
  
Duo looked up, eyes bright. "I enjoyed them," he whispered, voice barely audible.  
  
Wufei leaned in closer, not sure he'd heard right, and in that moment, Duo captured his lips in a chaste and tentative kiss. His lips were dry and firm. His chin was scratchy with stubble. The dragon's eyes had instinctively closed, but now they opened again, heavy-lidded and unreadable. Although he remained by all accounts outwardly calm, the kiss had sent an electric jolt of sensation from his mouth all through his body. He didn't breathe for several seconds, the two young men staring at each other, frozen. Then, his lungs hitching slightly, he leaned in and returned Duo's kiss, taking his lips and tasting them with the tip of his tongue. Today he tasted like orange juice. Duo pulled back a little and laughed nervously before kissing him again. Letting a quiet moan grow in the back of his throat, Wufei buried his fingers in the soft hair at the base of Duo's braid, drawing him closer. The thick tresses were wet at the center of the rope of hair, still not dry from his shower. Duo bit down softly on Wufei's lower lip and made a satisfied purring noise, sounding like a contented feline. The dragon grinned into his friend's mouth and opened his eyes to see violet irises startlingly wide and close to his. They broke the kiss, watching each other warily. Then with typical Maxwell speed and finesse, the hustler was straddling Wufei's thighs, long arms wrapped around his neck. Starting in surprise, the dragon swallowed thickly and lightly rested his hands on Duo's hips, feeling wiry muscle beneath worn out denim.  
  
Duo leaned in and touched his lips to Wufei's racing pulse. "I've been wanting to get you like this ever since I had your body under mine."  
  
Wufei slid his hands under Duo's loose hoodie, running his fingers along a sharp spine and sleek back muscles. "Why didn't you say something?"  
  
Duo's mouth traveled to his earlobe. "I thought you would hate me. I thought it was wrong to want you. Would you have wanted me to say something?" It was the smallest movement, the gentlest shifting of Duo's pelvis, but suddenly Wufei was very aware of how turned on they both were. His arms tightened around Duo's middle and with a quick shove and twist, he'd reversed their positions and pushed them further back on the bed, so that Duo now leaned against the wall and Wufei held himself up on his knees, upper body curled protectively over his friend.  
  
"Yes," he answered belatedly. He leaned both hands against the wall, on either side of Duo's head. "What if it had been like this? What if I had taken you? Would you still want me then?"  
  
Duo looked up through thick bangs, eyes glinting, and smiled. "Yes." Wufei leaned down and they kissed again, this time a bit more aggressively. Lowering himself so that he knelt between Duo's legs, he tugged on the braid, forcing Duo to crane his head backward and open his mouth further, deepening the kiss. He grunted and pulled Wufei down and closer, hooked his fingers under Wufei's thigh and tugged forward until the dragon shifted one leg over Duo's. Suddenly they were chest to chest and Duo was applying an expert amount of pressure with his thigh. Wufei let out a sharp breath and rocked his hips forward.  
  
Duo grinned. "Feel good?" he murmured. Wufei nodded and tugged up one side of Duo's sweatshirt, needing to see and touch his skin again. Duo shuddered under his rough fingers and Wufei felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Then he groaned as Duo's thigh pressed a little more insistently against his groin. He mirrored Duo's movements and felt his partner arch off the bed, his eyelids fluttering. Long fingers went around the back of neck and dragged him down for a wet kiss, his partner's lips murmuring against his.  
  
"Do you want to...?"  
  
Wufei palmed Duo's ribs, fingers sliding along the spaces between them. "Where can we go?"  
  
"We're already on my bed."  
  
Yes, on Duo's bed, on a bed with Duo, Duo under him, on Duo's bed in Duo's room. Not just Duo's room. Something was... Wufei pulled back slightly and blinked a few times. Duo looked up at him, heavy-lidded; then he blinked as well. Then he took a deep breath and laughed, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. He touched Wufei's hair and swallowed.  
  
"You should let me cut your hair," he said a bit breathlessly. Long fingers ran through uneven locks. "It could use a trim."  
  
That sounded familiar. Something was... Reality tickled the back of his brain and then came screaming forward when he remembered. Heero. Black eyes shot wide and he backed up quickly, crab-walking away from Duo until he fell off the bed with a bump. On his feet a moment later he stuttered, "Er... I meant to ask you earlier, before..." _'you kissed me'_ "if you would cut it for me." He straightened his clothes and studiously avoided Duo's confused and surprised expression. "Heero- he said you would... if I asked you."  
  
At that moment, the front door opened. Heero with groceries. The door shut. Silence. Footsteps into the kitchen, followed by the rustle of paper bags. The refrigerator door opened and closed. Wufei knew his eyes held a look of wild fear and guilt. It was partially reflected in the glance Duo shot at his bedroom door. He stood up abruptly.  
  
"Absolutely. Let's do it in the bathroom. I'll get my scissors. I'll just say hi to Heero first." Then he was gone, leaving Wufei to stumble back to his room, knees made of jelly.


	14. (Duo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**14\. Duo**

And this just feels like...  
Spinning plates  
_-Radiohead_  
  
Duo liked to run at night. He preferred to do it in the summer, after the dangerous afternoon heat, when the pavement was still hot but the air had cooled enough that it didn't sap away his energy too quickly. But night time runs in the fall were great too. Tonight, he could see his breath, puffing in small clouds, then dissipating as he sped along. His thermal shirt came down over his fingers, keeping out the chill. He wore loose-fitting black sweats instead of nylon trackies. He didn't like that 'swishing' sound, didn't like people to hear him coming when he ran, especially at night. He liked to stay hidden when he ran, keeping clear of the street lights if possible. He kept his braid coiled in a knot at the back of his head so it didn't flop around like I giant tail. When Duo ran at night he didn't like to be seen. So no one noticed his soft breathing and his quiet tread. His arms pumped steadily and his legs carried him with unconscious ease, extending, flexing without thought. The kilometers disappeared under his feet and still he ran. He found it soothing and steadying.  
  
But tonight his brain was speeding along at a similar pace, though not nearly as gracefully. His brain hiccuped and stumbled, tripped and regained lost balance only to falter again around two words: Chang Wufei. His brain felt clumsy and inept.  
  
He really shouldn't be running at all. He'd thoroughly worn himself out today, playing with Wufei and Heero. His cuts stung in the cold air and his split lip throbbed a little. But he'd had to get out of the flat. His brain needed a run. But it wasn't helping. All he could think about was Wufei on top of him, Wufei rubbing and grinding on his leg.  
  
_"Do you want to...?"  
  
"Where can we go?"_  
  
If Heero hadn't come home they might have gone at it right then.  
  
Wufei's fingers in his braid, tugging, his mouth groaning and smirking. Rough palm and fingers on his ribs, clutching and grasping.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Duo breathed.  
__  
"Would you have wanted me if it'd been like this? If I had taken you?"  
  
Duo had liked the feeling of the dragon curled over him, shielding him from... well it was only his room, but he'd felt protected and sheltered. Fuck yes, he'd still want Wufei if he was top. He'd wanted it right then. And he'd felt Wufei's want as well. He'd touched it with his palm, felt the curve of it, felt Wufei push himself into Duo's hand.  
  
Duo was having trouble swallowing. His throat was thick with mucus and saliva. He stopped and leaned over coughing and spitting. Fuck. His breathing was messed up he was so distracted. He'd probably twist an ankle if he didn't cut this nonsense out soon. He looked back up at his surroundings. His loop was almost over. He wasn't far from home. He should really get some sleep. But his head was just...  
  
He saw them in their bathroom, Wufei sitting on a chair dragged in from the kitchen, towel wrapped around his shoulders, dampened black hair standing straight up. Duo stood behind him, scissors frozen in mid-air by his ear. They'd just stared at each other in the mirror's reflection, measuring, searching and touching without actual contact. Wufei's eyes were wide and alert; he looked a bit like a skittish wild animal. They could both hear Heero typing away on his stolen laptop, slowly, painstakingly working his way inside Gael's accounts. They both felt his presence between them, but their gaze never faltered.  
  
A flutter of excitement coiled in his belly at the memory, then very suddenly headed south. Not again. He'd had half a dozen hard ons in the last few hours just thinking about what he and Wufei had done, had almost done, had not quite done.  
  
"Fuck this," he muttered, picking up his pace. He would address this now.  
  
+  
  
He snuck as silently as possible into the flat, stepping over floorboards that squeaked, controlling his breathing, willing his heartbeat to slow down. Everyone was home. This was really not a good idea. This was, in fact, a very very Bad Idea. But he was beyond fear. Keeping his eyes on the door to his and Heero's bedroom, willing it stay shut and the young man behind it to stay asleep, he carefully turned the doorknob leading to Wufei's room. He hadn't turned on any lights in the flat, so his eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. He could see Wufei in his bed, sleeping on his stomach, back rising and falling with his slow breathing. Duo slid through and shut the door behind him, padding across the floor in stockinged feet. How best to wake Wufei up without rousing the dragon? Duo approached slowly, displacing very little air, timing his breathing to Wufei's. His knee joints groaned a bit as he slid to the ground beside the bed. He grimaced. 'I'm getting too old for that sparring shit.'  
  
Wufei inhaled deeply and Duo froze. Eyelids fluttered and opened and then widened in surprise. No sneaking up on a sleeping dragon. Duo held a finger to his lips, silently begging Wufei to stay quiet. The dragon nodded and mouthed. 'What's wrong?'  
  
Duo hesitated. 'Nothing.'  
  
Wufei's eyebrows drew together in confusion. 'Then what is it?'  
  
Duo rested his hands on the bed and looked down at them for several seconds. Then he took a breath. 'I was running to clear my head. And I... I wanted to see you.' Wufei stayed very still, eyes taking on that wild look again. 'I ran and ran but all I could think about was you.' Wufei began to sit up and Duo rose with him. Pulling his legs up against his chest to give him more room, Wufei scooted back until he leaned against the wall. Again, they watched each other, measuring, unsure.  
  
Finally, Wufei's lips moved again. 'What do you want to do? Heero's right over there.'  
  
'I know.' Duo crawled forward, kneeling in front of his friend, tentatively resting his hands on Wufei's knees. The dragon's chest was rising and falling a bit quicker. 'I know,' Duo mouthed again, stretching forward. 'Can I...?'  
  
'Yes,' came the silent reply. His entire body throbbed as their lips touched. The tension was almost painful and Wufei felt it in the way Duo's fingers wrapped around his bicep. Duo knew that probably hurt, but he couldn't seem to let go. The fingers of his other hand ran through Wufei's newly cut hair. Duo leaned forward precariously, his belly just slightly touching Wufei's drawn up knees.  
  
"Wufei," he whispered aloud. His friend silenced him quickly with a firm kiss. 'Wufei,' he mouthed. 'I need...'  
  
The dragon instantly understood and lowered his legs so that Duo could get closer. Duo knew his cheeks were still flushed with cold fall air, but his body was burning as Wufei's hand slid from his shoulder down his chest to his belly to the waistband of his sweats and then inside. Duo clutched him harder and bit his cheek to keep his groan of relief from escaping. The dragon's hands were rough and sure. The friction was exquisite and Duo's hips surged forward. He scooted closer and the two of them worked his pants down lower around his hips, allowing Wufei more freedom of movement. The dragon's breath was definitely coming quicker now. Duo leaned his head back and stared unseeing at the ceiling, then returned his gaze to Wufei, whose eyes had never ceased watching him.  
  
'Shit, Wu. That feels amazing.'  
  
The dragon smirked in the dark. His hand was moving faster now and Duo's hips rocked back and forth jaggedly. His breath hitched. 'I can't... I'm not gonna last long.'  
  
Wufei watched him, unblinking. 'I know. I can feel you.'  
  
He could feel his orgasm building, coiling, stretching upward, focusing until he ached with it.  
  
'I'm gonna...' He felt Wufei's fingers on his face, then a knuckle in his mouth and he bit down, swallowing his voice, as pleasure racked his body, sharp and hard. He thrust into Wufei's hand again and again, his breath harsh and loud in his own ears. Wave after wave shook him until he felt wrung out and strung out, weak and shaking. He released Wufei's knuckle before collapsing into his arms. He shuddered and fell still, listening to the hammering of his heart. Or was that Wufei's? The dragon's breath was harsh in his ear. Duo could see that he was hard. He smiled lazily.  
  
He rubbed his palm against the thin fabric of Wufei's underwear. 'I want to watch you,' he mouthed against the dragon's neck.  
  
'You do?'  
  
'I want to see it, see you come. I want to watch you.'  
  
They slid down the wall until they lay flat on the bed, Duo still held tightly against Wufei's side. Wufei reached hesitant fingers inside his underwear and began to move, slowly at first. Duo took hold of his boxers in slightly shaking fingers and pulled downward, exposing him.  
  
"I want to see it," he whispered.  
  
"Sshh."  
  
Duo watched dazedly as his dragon lover's leg muscles clenched, as his ass flexed and his hips pushed upward just a little, into a hand already sticky with Duo's mess. 'You're beautiful,' he mouthed into his ear.  
  
'...Thank you.'  
  
'I want you to come for me.'  
  
'For you?'  
  
'Yes. Come for me.'  
  
The dragon's eyes closed in concentration. 'I will.'  
  
Duo suddenly felt like crying, though, he didn't know why and, of course, Duo didn't cry, ever.  
  
'Oh, fuck, I am.' Duo's breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened in wonder as the dragon's body arched off the bed, spasming in a jagged rhythm. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open wide in a silent shout. Duo kissed whatever skin he could reach and held him until the tremors stopped and they both rested in silence. In a haze, Duo watched Wufei lean over the side of the bed and pull a dirty t-shirt from the laundry, using it to gently clean them up. Then he tossed it back in the hamper.  
  
Duo draped one arm across Wufei's bare chest and rested his head by the dragon's ear, sharing his pillow. 'Thank you,' he mouthed.  
  
Wufei turned to look at him, eyes unfocused and drifting back towards sleep. He rested one hand on Duo's forearm. 'Stay with me tonight.' Duo smiled sadly. 'Please.'  
  
'You could sleep with me in the same bed?'  
  
Wufei nodded. 'With you, I could, I think.'  
  
'I would like that, but I can't.'  
  
Another small drowsy nod. 'No, I guess not.'  
  
'I'll see you in the morning, okay?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
Hesitantly, Duo sat up, pulling himself away from the warmth of Wufei's little bed.  
  
"Duo...?" It was the softest whisper he'd ever heard.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I like this secret."  
  
Duo smiled.


	15. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**15a. Quatre**

They put the wrong thing in me  
Then they made me love it  
They put the wrong thing in me  
Then they made me love it   
They put the wrong thing in me  
Then they made me love it  
_\- "The Wrong Thing" Struction_  
  
Quatre waved goodbye to Trowa, promising to meet him by the bus stop when he was finished, and turned away toward the hotel. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shook out his shoulders, adjusting the weight of his bag so that it fell more evenly across his chest. He looked up at the hotel, glancing from window to window. Most were dark, the glass covered by thick curtains. One of them twitched closed just as gaze came to rest upon it.  
  
"Who will it be today?" he asked himself. Taking the steps two at a time, he burst through the entrance into the lobby, flashing his brightest smile at the receptionist. "Hello, Rebecca. You're looking lovely today."  
  
The woman blushed and smiled back, handing Quatre a room keycard. She hesitated just as his fingers touched the plastic. "Quatre," she said quietly, smile abruptly gone.  
  
His eyes narrowed conspiratorially and he leaned closer. He was in a good mood today. "Yes?" he breathed dramatically.  
  
She glanced to her right and left, making sure no one was within earshot, then pressed her lips tightly together. "...Just be careful, okay?" Then she let go of the card and looked back down at her computer, ignoring that he was even there.  
  
"Alright... thanks," he muttered turning away and heading toward the elevators. That was odd.  
  
As he strode down the hall toward the room number indicated on the card, he began the routine locking away of the parts of his mind that would struggle with and reject the things he was about to do. It didn't take him long. By the time he reached the door, he felt prepared. Something about this john must have alerted Rebecca. 'Well, bring it on, creep,' he though with a smirk. 'It's nothing I haven't seen before.' Feeling extraordinarily secure in his four months experience as a hustler, he swiped the card key and walked into the room, Winner smile firmly in place.   
  
\+   
  
In his months as a hustler, Quatre had learned quickly what was 'normal.' The definition continued to expand with each job, and that was fine because he'd developed a sense of what he could handle and what went over that Line. Kink, violence, tenderness, resentment, love, self-loathing, affection... all of these could fall under the category of 'normal' so long as the Line was not crossed. Everything in moderation. The saying applied to diet, exercise, alcohol, workload and prostitution as it turned out. When a customer crossed the Line, usually only gentle prodding was needed to coax him or her back to 'normal.' Duo was the master of this, Trowa a close second. Heero and Wufei both needed serious tutelage in this department. Their standard reaction to Line Violation was violence. Quatre was sort of a mix of the two extremes. Gentle when he could be... not quite so gentle when he felt threatened.  
  
This man was approaching the Line. Quatre felt that he was doing a decent job of coping with the situation. The guy was a bruiser, no doubt. He grabbed hard, held hard and pushed. Quatre, now stripped down to his jeans, could feel the bruises starting on his hip bones and around his ribs and biceps. The back of his head ached where the john had shoved him into a wall. This was all almost normal. Hell, Quatre enjoyed a passion-filled shove against a wall as much as the next guy, but one was enough.  
  
Okay, two were enough.  
  
The third time, he got a little dizzy. 'Alright, what would Trowa do in this situation?' The answer came to him almost immediately. 'Let's move our activities to the nice soft bed.' Grinning in what he hoped was a seductive manner, Quatre grabbed the john's belt and pulled him toward the bed, skillfully undoing the buckle as he went. He kept his gaze locked with his customer's dark eyes. 'Not afraid of you.' They were just eyes; he was just a man. Unremarkable, generic, slightly overweight, pleated pants (when would they learn?), snug dress shirt. This man was not special; he wasn't. But he was smiling and that look held hunger and unspeakable cruelty. Quatre didn't dare look away from him.  
  
He knew it was coming, could see it in the man's posture as they approached the bed, and he went limp in preparation as the john shoved him down onto the mattress. Still his teeth clacked sharply together and his neck ached from the impact.  
  
"Alright, there," he murmured with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have to get through this in one piece, okay? I want to be able to make you feel good and I can't do that with whiplash." The words felt clumsy and fake in his mouth. They were Trowa's words, words of conciliation. They didn't come naturally and he hated them. But, damnit, he was good at his job! He could take this guy. He was not afraid.  
  
"Oh, you're making me feel good already. Don't worry about that. But I don't think you're working hard enough. I think you're enjoying this too much. You want it too much."  
  
Red flag. Quatre felt his smile slip a fraction. Why did that sound familiar? Who had said that? Not one of his jobs. He'd never seen this guy before.  
  
The slap came as quite a surprise. It stung the corner of his mouth and in spite of his careful control, his body flinched away, like a struck child. 'How embarrassing,' he thought.  
  
The Line had just been crossed. He shuffled back on the bed, skin crawling just a little when the john's rough hands reached toward his belt to undo the buckle and then his button fly. The man jerked them off in one swift motion, raking his eyes over Quatre's waist and thighs.  
  
"You've been getting off easy, boy. Look at that perfect, white skin. You need to be working harder for your money. Whore like you can't just get laid then take my hard-earned cash without putting in a little work."  
  
Quatre swallowed. Add a few more red flags to that first one. Just play along. Keep him happy while you can. "I'm working for you right now. What do you want me to do?" He was still following Duo and Trowa's example. Placate. Nudge. Stall if you have to.  
  
"Bleed." The second slap was not a surprise; the sting of his rings was. His head snapped back and he tasted blood.  
  
Quatre forced a laugh. "Okay, there it was. You got your blood. Normally, that's against the rules. Not too good for business as you can imagine. But I'll let that slide because I think you're a nice guy and-"  
  
The third strike sprayed blood across the bedspread, and he stared at it for a moment, confused. This happened to people? This was happening to _him?_ People didn't do this; they didn't hurt each other like this. His eyes burned and so did his gut, and, before he even consciously realized that he had changed tactics, Quatre's fist connected with the john's jaw. The hustler's lip curled up in a sneer and before the john could react, he was off the bed heading for his bag and his knives. He knew that standing there in his underwear, blood dripping down his face, he did not make an intimidating figure, but the john still looked mildly impressed. He knelt on the bed, cradling his jaw, staring at Quatre with unabashed lust.  
  
"Now you're working for it," he said approvingly.  
  
Quatre fought down the desire to sneer in disgust. 'Get some help, sicko,' he gritted to himself. He brought the bag over to the bed and removed a condom and some lubricant. "Let's just do this, okay? I'm working for you, but you can't just-"  
  
A fist in his gut silenced the young man's warning. He doubled over with a sharp cry of pain and then retaliated with a vicious backhand across the john's cheek. Then a right uppercut to the man's jaw sent him sprawling on the bed. He shook out his fist. It'd been a long time since he'd hit anyone like that.  
  
"I don't want to fight you. I'm not getting paid to-" Moving with surprising speed the john once again threw Quatre onto the bed. He pinned the boy's arms to the mattress and then kissed him, biting down on his cut lip. The man tugged hard on his mouth and blood flooded the back of Quatre's throat, choking him. He swallowed automatically and nearly gagged.  
  
The john backed off enough to press his knee firmly into Quatre's stomach. The boy coughed and turned his head to the side, spitting out blood and gasping for breath.  
  
"Stop talking and start working," his client gritted, quickly jerking down the boy's underwear.  
  
His brain was stumbling and lurching over what was happening. Trowa's careful instructions for locking away his shame and hurt and anger were working too well. He felt like he had nothing to draw on, no source for the rage he knew he should be feeling. His body wasn't working right. He could only react.  
  
"The condom!" Quatre gasped. "Please!" He could manage that much.  
  
The john said nothing in reply, his face going cold just as Quatre felt his insides turn to ice. The man's knee pressed up under his ribs, restricting his breathing, crushing him into the bed. His arms were pinned over his head in one large hand. The man's other hand was reaching around, behind, down, reaching for his...  
  
Quatre's head arched off the pillow and he cried out, long and hoarse, as the man's fingers violated him, pushing, stretching, tearing. 'Someone hear me and please help me,' he thought desperately, body bucking helplessly against the knee pinning him down. His scream was abruptly silenced as his arms were released and a heavy hand came down over his mouth. The man above him grinned when he bit down on the meaty flesh of his palm. Quatre frantically shoved his heals into the mattress, trying to push himself backwards and off the man's fingers, all the while tearing at the tough skin in his mouth. He clawed at the john's arms and at his face, but it didn't stop. None of it stopped. He felt like his life had become this struggle. Nothing before it existed and nothing would after if he didn't do something soon.  
  
In a moment of clarity, as his vision began to dim, as the john's fingers pushed further and harder, as he realized this was just the beginning of what this man had planned for him, he realized his bag was still by the bed. He kept up his struggle, raking his fingernails against the man's bicep as his arm slid down the side of the bed and grabbed for his bag. For a few frantic seconds, he searched blindly for a knife, fingers closing around the heavy handle moments before he thought he'd pass out. He yanked the knife from its sheath in one swift motion and jammed it into the first flesh he found. The blade bit into the john's bicep and Quatre let a feral snarl stretch his torn lip. He ruthlessly twisted the knife, shredding muscle and grinding against bone. The man roared in pain and jerked backwards, releasing his hold on the boy who'd gone very still beneath him. Quatre sucked in a desperate breath, choking on his and the john's blood. He clung to the knife, wrenching it out of the man's arm and bringing the handle down hard on his temple. He dropped like a stone.  
  
And suddenly everything was silent. Quatre slithered out from underneath the dead weight of the john and dropped to the floor, remaining their for several moments on hands and knees.  
  
'Concentrate on the breathing first, Winner. Take it slow.' Blood from his mouth dripped onto the carpet, staining the beige a darker brown. He watched the drops of bright red liquid fall, succinct beads dropping in slow motion. It was hypnotizing, numbing. His head throbbed, pulse racing in his ears. 'Okay, time to get up. Just stand up. Move your legs. Move your arms. Move _something!'_ With that shouted command, his elbows gave out and he rolled onto his back. He took a few deep breaths, then reached down to pull up his boxer shorts. Then he sat up, abdominal muscles burning from the john's earlier gut shot. Grunting with the effort, he shakily got to his feet, muscles screaming, liquid dripping down the inside of his thigh, torn mouth stinging, hands shaking, tears threatening. He went into the bathroom and leaned heavily against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. Then he turned on the sink full blast, the roar of the water echoing the static in his brain. His hair stood up everywhere and his face was blank, frozen. He leaned over and spit out blood, mucus and saliva. He stuck his face under the harsh flow of water and held it there until the water ran pink and then clear and his mouth burned.  
  
He heard a groan from the bedroom and he jerked upright. He turned off the water and ran back into the other room, heart pounding, knife raised for a throw that would leave no survivors. But the john was still out, a lump of muscle, bone and blood heaped on the bed. Quatre let out a great sigh of relief and quickly pulled his jeans and t-shirt back on, wincing at bruises. Pulling his belt through the loops of his pants, he slowly approached the john's unconscious body. Senses tuned for any change in his state, the boy leaned over and reached into the man's pocket, feeling for his wallet. His fingers closed around soft leather and gently, nerves screaming, he pulled it free. Backing up quickly, he opened the wallet and searched through its contents until he found the drivers license and a stack of business cards. "You're a handsome devil," he murmured, looking at the picture. "What's your name?" The license and the business cards matched.  
  
"Richard Craven." He slid one of the cards into his pocket and threw the wallet back on the bed. "Alright, Dick. Nice meeting you. Stay the fuck away from me."  
  
With that, he stepped into his sneakers and setting his bag over bruised shoulders, he walked out of the room. The moment he turned the corner, he bolted for the stairwell. Vaulting over the railing, he took the stairs two and three at a time, the need to be free of the building driving his legs. He made it to the lobby and slammed through the front doors, not glancing to his left or right, not noticing Rebecca's concerned expression. He hit the sidewalk at a dead run, taking off for Trowa, blowing by the bus stop, heading straight for the address his friend had given him.  
  
He had to get there before... The solid defenses in his brain were crumbling -- anguish, shame and fury leaking into his consciousness. He ran faster, body nearly on autopilot as his brain began to flood. 'Just get to Trowa. Find Trowa.'  
  
**15b. Duo**  
  
Someone else's boy,   
Tell me your convoluted stories through half-rotten mouth,  
I will decipher them, to tell the world of your heart,  
How beautiful things can come from the dark  
_\- "Beautiful Things Can From the Dark" Azure Ray_  
  
Duo lay on his stomach, sketchpad in front of him, tongue between his lips in concentration. Every few seconds he looked up to get a better look at his sleeping roommate before returning to his drawing. Heero was dozing lightly, forgotten laptop leaning precariously off his thigh. Duo considered going over to close it up and put it away -- they'd both put themselves in enough danger stealing the damn thing to warrant the precaution -- but Heero would probably wake up and ruin his relaxed pose. So Duo let his concern for the safety of their computer slide and enjoyed the perfect silence of the flat. Trowa and Quatre were working, and he knew Wufei was meditating in his room. Duo knew this because he'd wanted to talk to him, had wanted to perhaps do more than just talk, but he always respected Wufei's meditation schedule, if for no other reason than he valued his bones right where they were, in tact and not shuffled around by a surprised dragon.  
  
Duo had barely been able to get in a few rushed words these last weeks; they'd all been ridiculously busy. He hadn't been able to get him alone, let along touch him. Privacy was at a premium in this place, that was certain. This was as quiet as their flat had been in-  
  
He was on his feet, knife in hand before he even registered the front door slamming open, Heero cursing sleepily behind him. He heard the unmistakable sword-leaving-sheathe sound from Wufei's room. They all relaxed when they saw it was just Trowa. Then they rushed to clear the couch as they saw the burden he carried in his arms. Trowa knelt by the sofa and gently laid Quatre down on the soft cushions.  
  
"He's in shock." His voice was flat and without emotion, but his body betrayed the tension he felt. Automatically, Heero ran to the bedroom and brought out several blankets, helping Trowa wrap them around the boy's still body.  
  
"Status?" he demanded.  
  
Trowa shrugged, a sharp, angular movement. "Bad job. Bruiser. Beat him up pretty bad. Lots of blood, though I think the mouth cut is the only source. I'm guessing the rest is the john's."  
  
"Shit," Duo muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. There was a lot of blood.  
  
"Didn't he tell you?" Wufei snapped.  
  
"No. He came bursting into the house -- I was in the middle of a job and he just collapsed, didn't say anything."  
  
"Then maybe he was mugged," Heero said. Duo thought he sounded hopeful.  
  
"I don't think so. There are teeth marks."  
  
They all stared at the boy where he lay, a tiny figure drowning in blankets.  
  
"That lip looks bad," Heero muttered.  
  
Trowa nodded. "I think I can stitch it up." He took a deep breath. "I'll get him cleaned up, a hot bath should bring him out of it."  
  
Duo immediately headed for the bathroom, glad to get away from the sight of a fallen comrade. The sound of running water effectively blocked any conversation from the other room. Running his hands through his bangs, he took several deep breaths. This couldn't be happening. The five of them were _not_ victims. This did _not_ happen to them. So why did it...again? First that job with Ralph. That one had sent them staggering. Now this. And why did it have to be to Quatre?  
  
A moment later Trowa pushed past him and sat the blond boy on the toilet, gently pulling off his clothes. Unable to take his eyes off the blood oozing from Quatre's mouth, he just stared. There was so much more of it dried and stuck to his chest and stomach -- but no visible wound. Maybe the kid really had taken out his client. Duo felt his mouth twitch upward in an fierce grin. He hoped that was the case.  
  
He jumped when Heero's fingers went around his wrist and pulled him back to the living room. "Let Trowa handle this," he said softly as he led him to the couch. They sat down together, Wufei in the armchair next to them, elbows resting on his knees, a scowl blacker than storm clouds darkening his features. They sat for several minutes in silences, starting at every sound from the bathroom.  
  
The water had shut off. They could only hear muffled voices, Trowa's soft and calming, Quatre's cracked and raw.  
  
"We need a client list," Heero gritted finally, hands balled into fists in his lap. "We need to know who that man was and... press charges." By the sound of it, this was not the only thing he intended to do to Quatre's client.  
  
But Duo shook his head. "We can't break into the Boss's database, not that one anyway. I know you're gettin' into his bank accounts and his payroll, Heero, but for shit like that, Gael's got security you wouldn't believe. He guards that list like it's a family heirloom. Lotsa high-rollers' reputations depend on it not getting out He sure as hell isn't just gonna tell us who Quatre had today. It's up to the johns to tell us their names if they want to."  
  
"What do you suggest we do?" Wufei asked, voice cold.  
  
Duo shrugged. "Only thing we can do: tell Gael we want him off the list. The Boss decides what's to be done about an abusive john. He's been pretty good about it in the past."  
  
"Totally unacceptable," Wufei spat back. "I refuse to be the victim of these people's perverted, greedy, unjust, and totally warped attitudes towards other human beings. There has to be more to it than just lodging a complaint and filing some paperwork. There must be further recourse. Heero, you understand that, right?"  
  
Heero's face stayed a mask of dark anger, but his voice was calm. "You are both right. Duo's right that we need to go through official channels, do all that we can to get rid of this guy so no one else has to suffer what Quatre did. But I also agree with Wufei that it's not enough. I want that client list," he said again. "I want to know how Gael sets up these jobs and I want to take control away from him. Either we do it ourselves or we don't do it at all."  
  
Duo snorted. "Not asking much, are you, Ro?" Heero stiffened. "I'm with you on the whole 'up or out' scheme, but I don't see how, short of a military coup, we can pull it off. Bossman's everywhere. He knows us. You and I have been working for him for years; we're in so deep... I don't know if we have that many options, whatever we may _want_ to do. The disappearance rate for movers and shakers is pretty high. You know that."  
  
Heero shook his head. "But we are not helpless. He can't keep us from seeking to better our own circumstances."  
  
"He can if he sends a few of his highly trained, sneaky, deadly assassins to visit us at night and poison us in our sleep."  
  
"We should _be_ them!" Heero shouted suddenly. Duo jumped and Wufei stared at their friend blankly. Heero shook his in frustration, a sharp anguished movement. " _I've_ watched us. _I_ know us better than the Gael. I've seen what we can do, and we are twice as deadly as any of the Boss's men. They could come and try to take us, keep us from moving up, but they won't because they'd be dead before they could even pull a weapon. Wufei," he turned to the dragon. "You are the most efficient fighter I have ever seen."  
  
"But you haven't seen me-"  
  
"That doesn't matter. I have fought you, seen you move. If you'd had actual opponents, they would have- you would have- look, I know what you can do." Wufei's cheeks darkened with a flush of pride.  
  
"And you-" He turned to Duo. "I never know where you'll be. We've known each other for years and I _still_ can't ever tell what you'll do. And if you're too fast for me, you will be for anyone who dares to fight you." Duo smiled to himself, violet eyes quickly meeting dark blue before glancing away.  
  
"And Trowa... he was a mercenary before this. He has nothing to fear from any of those men. Quatre, who, up until now, appeared to be our weakest link, may have just beat the shit out a john who was probably about twice his size. _We_ are this Family's strongest, fastest, deadliest members and he's _wasting_ us. He-"  
  
He abruptly stopped as Duo put a hand on his wrist, right as the bathroom door opened. The two young men emerged, Trowa standing nearly a head taller that Quatre's hunched form. The height difference, coupled with the blond boy's defensive posture, made him look utterly defeated. The two went into their bedroom without a word, Trowa leading the boy with an arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders.  
  
As the door closed, Duo shuddered. "Did you seen those bruises?" Heero and Wufei both growled in response. Duo thought back to the john he'd had a few months before, who'd pushed him around like he'd been nothing but a toy, told him he was enjoying it all too much, not working hard enough. The bruises on Quatre's hips, ribs and collarbone were strikingly similar. But his mouth...that was worse. That'd leave a scar. Duo's heart clenched in anger. How could he sit here and simply say that they should only report the incident to the Boss and do nothing else? The very same thing had happened to him before and he'd done nothing more than make the appropriate complaint. How could be so complacent? Even though he and Quatre were not close, they were still brothers of a sort. He couldn't just do nothing.  
  
Several minutes later the bedroom down swung back open and Trowa came out, Quatre a pace behind him. The boy was now dressed in a loose cotton pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. His torn lip was neatly stitched, though it still looked inflamed and painful. The silence that hung between and among them all as Trowa went to the kitchen for ice was palpable and decidedly awkward. Quatre kept his eyes on the floor. When Trowa returned they all relaxed a bit then tensed again when Quatre flinched away from the ice gently pressed against his mouth.  
  
"Quatre told a me a bit of what happened." Trowa addressed his three seated flat mates, but his eyes never left his friend's mouth. "He wouldn't tell me all of it, but I got enough to know that this man he had today is and will continue to be a threat to all of us unless something is done. Quatre should not have had to see him. And I don't think he's the first of us who as." Three sets of eyes blinked and looked at Trowa in surprise. "Duo... I think that you should talk to Quatre for awhile."  
  
Duo started and shook his head in confusion. "Me? But- why-"  
  
"Just, please do it."  
  
Duo rose quickly to his feet, glancing around, noting Wufei's raised eyebrow. Well, maybe he was the best one to offer comfort in this situation; he had encountered more than his fair share of bruisers in his day. Gael seemed to delight in handing them to him. Without another word, he lead Quatre into his and Heero's bedroom.  
  
+  
  
The two young men sat stiffly next to each other, Duo fiddling with the end of his braid, Quatre carefully dabbing at his mouth with the ice. Duo, feeling awkward and incapable of communication, finally took a deep breath and decided to just do what he always did in uncomfortable situations: talk until it made sense.  
  
"Quatre, I'm just gonna start with what's in my head. I'll just talk for awhile and you can interrupt if you want, talk about what happened if you want, or just listen. Okay?"  
  
The boy nodded, eyes hooded.  
  
"Um, I guess there's some shit between us that we should probably clear up, that I've wanted to talk to you about but just never worked up the guts. Mainly...the night you came to live with us. The night at that club, whatever the hell posh place that was, was pretty fucked up, and I know that you blamed me for all of it." Quatre tensed, but didn't speak. "And you had every right to. I mean, the second I saw you, I was attracted to you -- your personality, your body, the crazy way you moved, everything. You were a job. I was getting paid to dance with you and keep you happy. And since I'm attracted to lots of people -- not growing up with a particularly conventional sense of propriety -- I thought, what the hell, why not enjoy myself? So we danced and we talked and by the end of the night, I thought you were probably one of the most beautiful and vibrant people I'd ever be likely to meet. I felt lucky." Quatre smiled slightly and relaxed a bit, settling back on Duo's bed. Duo watched from the corner of his eye and knew his voice was having the desired effect. He continued in low soothing tones, rambling about the rest of that night, how awful he felt about what happened and how he regretted the subsequent ill-will between them.  
  
When he'd said his peace, he paused and, when Quatre showed no sign of wanting to talk, he launched into his history with Heero, how the two had met as young boys, how they'd pretty much pulled each other out of the garbage after a police raid on a condemned building known to be a popular hideout for homeless kids. He told stories of his and Heero's exploits stealing food, art supplies, books, means of protecting themselves and their transportation: a pair of beat-up skateboards. He told Quatre of the long nights they spent, building a half-pipe in an old basement gym way downtown.  
  
"Do you still go there?" Quatre's voice was hoarse and barely audible but his curiosity was obvious.  
  
Duo smiled sadly and shook his head, no. "No wheels."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"A few years back, a buncha kids jumped Heero and me and took'em. After that, we weren't really in any shape to skate."  
  
"I used to skate. Did you know that?"  
  
"I did not," Duo said, turning a grin on the boy leaning wearily against the wall. "Any good?"  
  
A small shrug. "I had fun."  
  
"Us, too." They fell silent, eyes glazed, lost in memory. Then Duo sighed. "Shit. We gotta work on gettin' some wheels. It's a hell of a lot easier to get around with a board between you and the pavement."  
  
Quatre nodded, a wistful smile curving the undamaged side of his mouth.  
  
Duo shook himself out of his memories and gave Quatre a measuring look. "You know, Q, that's probly gonna leave a handsome scar, even with those stitches."  
  
The boy nodded. "I know," he said quietly. But he didn't sound sorry for himself, Duo thought in surprise. He sounded- "I'll find him, Duo. I don't normally go for 'eye-for-an-eye' revenge. It's not my style. But he will pay for what he did." He sounded angry, furious even. "I just wish my brain had been... I wish I could have done more than I did. I was numb then."  
  
"Hey buddy, I understand. My head woulda been pretty screwed up, too."  
  
"No, I couldn't have hurt him more than I did. It was out of necessity getting that knife in his arm. I would have passed out otherwise. My mind was... Trowa helped me to sort of... not care that I have to sleep with men. So, I was numb."  
  
"Come again?" Duo asked, suddenly confused. His earlier assertion that Quatre hid a lot was proven yet again as the young man cleared his throat and proceeded to feed him a story out of some science novel. Duo realized that he didn't know his flat mate very well at all.  
  
"Mind partitioning. It's been working. I lock up all of my more... dangerous emotions so that I don't really care what my body does. But today, it pretty much bit me in the ass." He put the ice back on his mouth and continued to stare off at some point in middle distance.  
  
Duo turned this new concept over in his head, trying to look at it from all angles. "Does your brain... do you stay partitioned all the time?"  
  
Quatre shook his head, no. "Only when I work," he said, voice muffled behind the ice.  
  
Duo frowned. "Christ, so after it's all over, those emotions come flooding back and..."  
  
"Today, they put me in shock."  
  
"Shit," Duo muttered, in awe of the kind of mind control the kid possessed. To be able to simply shut out all the anger and shame that came with the job...it would be liberating. But at the same time debilitating with a john like the one Quatre faced today. Duo had been dealing with those emotions since he'd realized that if he wanted the protection of a large Family, he needed to sell at least some part of himself. He did not allow them to rule his life, but neither did he deny them. And at that moment, he felt intensely grateful for his ability to deal with them -- deal with them enough anyway.  
  
"Q, do you think...you'll be okay, after this?"  
  
The boy barked a short, humorless laugh. He shrugged sharply, then shook his head, no, face suddenly going blank.  
  
"What does that mean, Quatre?" Duo kept his voice steady, though his heart had just leapt into his throat. Another quick shrug. "Do you need to see a doctor?" He nodded once, yes. Duo felt the air freeze in his lungs, was sure he could see his breath if he dared exhale. "For more than just the lip?" Another nod. "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to. I'll get a sweatshirt; we can go right now."  
  
Quatre quickly shook his head, no. "I think I have to wait a few weeks. They wouldn't know anything the same day, right?" Now bright blue eyes met violet, wide with fear and dawning comprehension.  
  
"You didn't use protection?" Duo breathed. Quatre's cheeks reddened. He kept his voice low, but Duo flinched at the anger spat at him.  
  
"I told him we had to. I'm not a fucking idiot. But it's not that. He never... it didn't go that far. I stopped him. I wouldn't be this fucked up over a split lip. There was just so much blood and there wasn't anything I could do. He was so big. I had to stab him and beat him over the head just so I could breathe. He bit my mouth and then he was suffocating me and I bit his hand, so I know I got it in my mouth and in the cut. All that blood, and I know some of it got in me and..." Quatre looked up at him, for once looking like a scared boy. "And that's really dangerous, isn't it?"  
  
Duo sat very still, eyes wide, voice stuck in his throat. This sort of thing did not happen to them, not any of them. They were all so careful. Christ, they had to be. He saw Quatre watching him, saw the scared expression forced back inside and replaced by a valiant attempt the at levity. "Well, Dick got what he wanted, anyway. I certainly didn't enjoy the job too much, and I was definitely working hard." He tried to laugh and failed.  
  
Duo's eyes refocused and he returned to the conversation. "What did you say?"  
  
Quatre shrugged and then shuddered. "The whole time I was with him he kept telling me that I was having too much fun and not working hard enough. He wouldn't let it go."  
  
Instantly, Duo was back in a hotel suite with that man pushing and pulling and crushing and hurting him. He remembered hoping that Heero would burst through the door and find him and pull that man off him and beat the piece of shit senseless. He remembered hoping that Heero would then turn to him, grab him and shake him and shout, "Damnit, Duo! We're not doing this anymore!" But Heero hadn't come. Duo had let that man hurt him and then he'd tried not to limp home because he didn't want Heero to see that. Then he'd filed a complaint with Gael... which had been ignored.  
  
He let out a deep breath and then drew in another. "I don't believe it," he said quietly.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"He's not off the list."  
  
"Who? This guy I had today?"  
  
"Fuckin' A... I sent in a... I called him up and _said_ he should be off the list. Fucker pushed me around so hard, I couldn't wear short sleeves for a week and it was fucking _summer."_  
  
"Wait, you know this guy?"  
  
"Yes," Duo gritted.  
  
"So Trowa was right? This wasn't the first time?"  
  
"The night I met you, I was recovering from a morning appointment with him. He kept it all below the neck, so I could hide it, but damn, that guy pissed me off. Arrogant, twisted, _strong_ , asshole."  
  
"Well, he didn't keep it below the neck this time," Quatre muttered, dabbing at his stitches.  
  
"God _damnit_ I wish I new that guy's name. I'd find that son of a bitch and make sure he-"  
  
"I do know his name... and his phone number and email address and where he works."  
  
"-never so much as _thinks_ about seeing any- wait, _what?"_ He turned angry violet eyes to the boy next to him.  
  
"I got his card. I know who he is."  
  
Duo's eyes narrowed. "You sure it was his?"  
  
Quatre shrugged. "It matched his driver's license."  
  
A slow smile spread across Duo's face. "What's his name?"  
  
"Richard Craven. Dick to his close friends."  
  
"Dick," he muttered darkly, tasting the word. He'd never liked that word. Then he smacked his hands together and rubbed them excitedly. "Well, Dick's coming off the list, whether Gael removes him, or we take _off_ his dick so there's no point in having him on it. And Q, we're gonna think of a way to fix this for you. We're gonna make it better, I promise." He already had an idea in mind.


	16. Dick: The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**16\. Wufei**

I might be wrong  
I might be wrong  
I could've sworn I saw a light coming on  
I used to think  
I used to think  
There was no future left at all  
I used to think  
_\- "I Might Be Wrong" Radiohead_  
  
"I still don't quite understand why I'm the one who's going on this particular adventure, Maxwell." Wufei adjusted his knit hat, pushing it further back on his forehead. He scowled over at the young man sitting next to him on the park bench. But his friend didn't appear to want to answer his question. "Why not take Yuy? He's your usual partner in crime. He'd be glad to do it, I'm sure."  
  
Duo glanced over at the grumpy dragon, then straight ahead. "Does it matter? I asked you. I didn't think you'd mind." Wufei sucked in a breath, about to retort, but he could see Duo wasn't joking and he realized any snotty remark he made would add nothing to the mood. The simple truth was that he felt uneasy. Ever since Duo had come to his room that night several weeks ago, things had been different... awkward and tentative, exciting. Wufei hid an involuntary smile at the memory of the small, uncertain, intimate and intensely private looks Duo gave him when no one was looking, when they had just a few seconds of privacy. He held those seconds close to his chest, the only evidence he had of late that his life had deviated at all from the routine of 'wake up, go through morning stretches, run, eat, work, meditate, eat, work more, go to sleep.' Some days he went through his forms instead of running, but, really, his days were much the same... except for this new tension with Duo.  
  
"It'll be easy, Wu," Duo continued, jerking him out of his thoughts. "All you have to do is cover my back. I'll do all the hard work."  
  
Wufei snorted. "Right. I know theft has always been very difficult for you."  
  
Duo rolled his eyes and turned to his friend in a huff. "The theft itself _will_ be difficult. Grabbing an extremely expensive violin out of the bedroom of the Winner's supposedly MIA heir won't be easy, especially with the kind of security I'm sure they have. But you're right, I have no moral or ethical compunction about stealing from these people."  
  
"I'd never presume that you _would_ , Maxwell," Wufei sniffed. "Morality and ethics have never been your strong suit."  
  
"And consistency has never been yours, Mr. I-hate-my-life-until-I-meet-charming-sex-god-Duo-Maxwell-and-suddenly-have- an-epiphany-at-which-time-I-embrace-my-sexuality-and-try-to-glean-some-plea sure-from-my-formerly-miserable-existence." Duo looked smug.  
  
"That's not what happened."  
  
"It is, too."  
  
"It's not."  
  
"It is, but my point is even though you, with your infinitely complicated and befuddling sense of justice, may not think that I have a sense of what's right and wrong, but you'd be wrong." Wufei folded his arms across his chest and waited, eyebrows raised. "Breaking into and stealing from the Winners is a totally acceptable action because _they_ wronged their son. And besides that, they have more property than the law should allow. Some of it needs to be redistributed."  
  
"Commie."  
  
"Bourgeois pig." Duo flashed a wicked and playful grin. "And anyway, the violin was Quatre's to begin with. Trowa told me he missed playing it. And besides _that_..." He paused dramatically. "Remember that drawing of Trowa playing the accordion?" Wufei nodded, curious in spite of himself. "Do I even need to tell you how good it would be for the two of them to play together?"  
  
Wufei caved. "No, you don't," he grumbled. "But what happened to finding Dick Craven and ripping his balls off? I liked that plan. That plan made sense."  
  
Duo huffed a sigh. "Dick disappeared. Q and I snooped around the work address on the card and we think it's a fake. We've been looking elsewhere but we shouldn't draw attention to that fact. He and I agreed to put Dick's castration on hold for awhile." He turned to Wufei. "But I had to do something to get Q to feel better. He's been real down."  
  
Wufei looked down at his hands. "I know."  
  
"But anyway," Duo chirped, enthusiasm back with alarming speed, "now the two of us get to have an adventure!" And with that reassuring statement, Duo rose from the bench and marched across the street to the gates of the Winner estate.  
  
Wufei looked up at his partner's back and shook his head. "Alright, Duo, but let's keep this quick."  
  
Duo smirked. "Don't worry, Wu. I don't want to hang around that den of iniquity any more than you do. In and out; that's the plan."  
  
\+   
  
"In and out, right?" Wufei hissed. "Do you _remember_ the 'in an out' part?"  
  
"Yes, I remember," Duo whispered back. "Just let me think for a minute."  
  
They were lost -- had been for almost an hour -- wandering in search of Quatre's room.  
  
Much to their surprise, when they'd arrived at the gated driveway, they'd seen groups of varying sizes crisscrossing the grounds, examining out-buildings, gardens, pools, and ornate playgrounds. Duo's jaw had dropped down to his knees. "You're kidding," Wufei had muttered. "They give tours?" Duo, struck dumb by the size of it all, had only nodded, making no attempt to hide his astonishment. Neither of them had ever seen wealth of that magnitude, but Duo, who'd never even been close to leaving the poverty line behind, couldn't seem to get his brain around the amount of money the Winners possessed. "Shit," was all he could muster.  
  
It had been no trouble latching onto a tour group and just walking inside the mansion. Duo had been embarrassed at how easy it was. But they both saw the cameras hanging in almost every corner. Wufei was sure that someone had noticed two young men join up with one of the larger groups. As they'd walked through seemingly endless hallways, not really listening to the drone of their guide's voice, they'd both been struck by the enormity of their task.  
  
"We can't very well ask where their MIA son keeps his prized possessions, now can we?" Duo had hissed when Wufei asked how they would find Quatre's room. "Give it time, Wu. Stick to the group. Don't look suspicious. When the time's right, we sneak off on our own. I doubt the bedrooms are all in one wing, but they're probably on the same _side_ anyway. We find one bedroom; it shouldn't take too long to find the rest."  
  
Or so he'd said. Almost an hour ago.  
  
"This is not going well," Wufei said again.  
  
"You want me to stop and ask for directions, honey?" Duo ground out sarcastically.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then just be quiet. How was I supposed to know they designed the house by interest? Talk about spoiled -- they get to live inside their own hobbies. Playrooms the size of France, greenhouses that contain entire geographic regions, entertainment centers that need their own zip code... it's absurd." They came to an intersection and glanced up at the security camera. "And no privacy. Christ, I couldn't stand it. Boss did Q a favor getting him out of this zoo."  
  
"Why doesn't anyone come for us? They must see us on those cameras."  
  
Duo shrugged. "Probably waiting for us to prove we're more than tourists, to see if we try to steal an heirloom or something."  
  
"I've changed my mind. Let's ask for directions. All we have to do is ask where the music wing is, right? That's logically where his stuff would be."  
  
"I know I can find it," Duo gritted stubbornly.  
  
+  
  
Finally, when Wufei began to wish for a flare gun and emergency rations, he heard the soft notes of a flute drifting on the well-circulated air currents of the mansion. Both their heads snapped up and they glanced around like hounds on a scent. Duo caught Wufei's eye and then took off down the hallway towards the gentle strains of music. After a few wrong turns and more mumbled curses, they stumbled upon an enormous conservatory. A large group of onlookers stood inside as the guide skillfully demonstrated the quality of the instruments the Winners possessed. The two young men stood in the back, scanning the walls in awe. Guitars, violins, cellos, flutes, clarinets, trumpets, drums, several pianos... it went on and on.  
  
The guide explained "young Master Winner's" love of music. His parents had bought him the best instruments money could find, but he truly loved his old violin. Which was not on display. It awaited his return in his bedroom. In fact this entire wing was devoted to Quatre. It was kept the way he kept it. It was a constant reminder of his absence. It was constant incentive to keep up the search for the missing heir. Wufei wanted to puke and Duo looked like he was having a hard time hiding a sneer of contempt.  
  
The dragon jumped when Duo grabbed his hand. "Let's go. The violin's in his room.." Duo's voice was soft in his ear as the group began to file out of the cavernous room. The two friends fell to the back of the line and then slipped inside the first door they came upon. Duo still held onto Wufei's hand, tugging him along and then softly shutting the door behind them. Wufei pulled his hand free, fiercely ignoring the flush that slight contact ignited.  
  
This thing with Duo was spinning out of control in his own head. He felt it escalating all the time even though Duo had made no overt move since they'd... since Duo had come to him, flushed from the cold, flushed with need. He just... was more and more familiar, closer... and more serious. He saw less of the joker, more of the devoted friend, the survivor and the fighter. Now, as they searched the room, confident that it was Quatre's, Wufei felt certain that things were changing between them, and he liked that change. He just wasn't sure of the consequences of their actions -- how it would affect the balance the five of them had achieved. Specifically what it would mean if Heero found out about it. It'd taken months for Wufei to determine that Duo and Heero were not and had never been together, but their bond was intense and Wufei knew Heero would want to know if... some sort of relationship developed, if... But did Wufei want something to happen with Duo? What would that mean for their jobs? How would he and Duo negotiate a relationship when every day they had to be with other-  
  
"Well this is definitely Q's room," Duo smirked. Wufei jerked himself out of his useless speculation and looked up from his examination of the boy's bookshelves. Duo knelt in front of an old skateboard leaning against the wall, long fingers running over the worn deck. In his other hand, Duo held up a handful of magazines. Wufei squinted in an effort to see the covers. Then, blushing on Quatre's behalf he turned back to his scrutiny of the bookshelf, even though the violin was clearly not there. "Nudie magazines!" Duo crowed before flopping on the bed to leaf through them. Wufei turned back to his friend, voice hushed but urgent.  
  
"Duo... violin? Someone must have seen us come in here. Security could be here any second. Put those down!"  
  
Grinning evilly, the young man opened one and disappeared behind it. Scowling, Wufei turned away and headed for the closet door.  
  
Less of the joker. Right.  
  
Pulling it open, his mouth dropped open in shock. Rows and rows of clothes disappeared into the recesses of the gigantic closet. "Good grief," he muttered stepping inside. He pushed his way through the hangers of sweaters and button-down shirts, into the t-shirts. The light faded behind him until he stood in darkness, surrounded by a cotton jungle. Again he felt the need for a flare and emergency rations.  
  
He stifled a shout of surprise when Duo careened into him from behind, nearly knocking him to the floor. He heard the closet door shut just as the bedroom door opened. His eyes widened and he tensed for flight in the instinctual gut response to being cornered, but then he scowled as he wrestled Duo off him.  
  
"Were you seen?" he hissed. Duo's large hand covered his mouth as they stumbled to the back of the closet. They hit the wall and slid to the floor, pulling the racks of clothes together in front of them. Wufei felt stifled and smothered in cloth and his lungs fought for breath, the rest of him fighting off panic. He pulled Duo's hand away and sucked a quick gasp of air, eyes wide, searching for any light in the pitch darkness. Gradually his senses adjusted and he could begin to make out shapes. He heard Duo's hushed breathing as well as the shuffling movements of the person in Quatre's room.  
  
"Security?" he whispered, his voice deadened by the wall of fabric in front of him. He felt Duo shrug, a raising and lowering of lean shoulders. They waited for several minutes, ears straining for any sound from outside, silence heavy. They both jumped when a vacuum roared to life, drowning out all other sounds. Wufei sagged in relief and resolutely set off in search of the violin in the recesses of the closet. Duo muttered something inaudible and headed off in the opposite direction. The vacuuming continued as they felt around the carpeted floor for the instrument case.  
  
Finally, Wufei's fingers ran into a hard rectangular shape covered in canvas. Searching blindly, he ran his hands along the sides, smirking in satisfaction as he discovered straps and metal clasps. He flipped open the case and gently felt inside, fingertips encountering four strings, a delicate wooden body and a slim neck. He felt around some more and found the bow strapped into the top.  
  
"Psst!" he hissed. "Duo, I found it." He heard the rustle of clothing and the creaking of hangers and then a rope of hair landed in his lap as Duo bent over the instrument, fingers feeling out the contours of the wood and strings.  
  
"Nice work, Wu," he whispered directly in his ear. Wufei jumped, startled at his friend's proximity.  
  
"Let's get out of here," he whispered back.  
  
"Can't. Not til the help is done tidying up. Looks like we're stuck for the moment." Their hands gently brushed together as they both closed the case. Now that they had what they came for, Wufei breathed deeply and allowed himself to relax slightly. He sat back against the wall, holding in a flinch when Duo sat next to him, body flush with his. This wasn't the time for... They should be thinking of an escape plan.  
  
But all thoughts of that nature fled his mind in one swift exodus when Duo's hand found his where it lay in his lap. Long fingers squeezed his and he sucked in a breath. "Duo..."  
  
"Thank you for helping me," came the quick interruption.  
  
He hesitated. "You're welcome."  
  
A few moments of droning vacuum filled the silence between them, Wufei utterly at a loss as to how to proceed. He didn't remove his hand from Duo's grip, but he didn't squeeze back. "Um..."  
  
"Wufei?"  
  
He held his breath.  
  
"Can I kiss you again?"  
  
The voice was barely audible, but it cut right through any protests he had ready. "Why?" was all he could manage.  
  
Duo laughed quietly, a warm puff of air on his cheek. "Because I want to."  
  
Wufei turned to face him, frowning. "That's not a-"  
  
"Do you not want me to kiss you?" Duo's voice sounded amused but Wufei heard the vulnerability in that question and his brain flashed through images of Duo's tentative smile, his hesitant touches. This was not the savvy hustler who took everything in his long easy stride; this was his best friend stumbling through a delicate negotiation of space and intent.  
  
"I- this isn't really the time or place for..." But his mind was already made up as he leaned forward in search of Duo's lips. It was the smallest of touches, chaste and unsure. And like all their previous kisses, his heart thudded in his ears and his fingers trembled a bit as they carefully traced the line of Duo's jaw. Duo's hands came up, stilling them with a calm touch. His lips touched Wufei's again, an open-mouthed kiss. Duo's hand slid down the dragon's chest, resting at his belt. With a sudden, graceful shift, Wufei found Duo, as before, in his lap, knees on either side of this hips, arms around his neck, mouth laying soft kisses on his forehead, eyelids and cheeks. "I would feel better if you had a reason for wanting to do this," Wufei whispered, hands sliding up underneath Duo's sweatshirt. "Again. And under these circumstances."  
  
Duo chuckled low in his throat. "This is the first time I've had you alone in weeks. But I'll think of a better reason than that at some point; I promise."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They kissed again, tongues touching lips and teeth. Wufei pulled his hands away from Duo's ribs and again sought his face, fingers running along a sharp jaw covered in stubble.  
  
"I wish I could see your face," he whispered, wondering at his own admission. The darkness was making him fearless.  
  
"No you don't," Duo laughed. "I'm all sweaty and dusty."  
  
'Even better,' Wufei thought.  
  
"The maid doesn't ever clean back here."  
  
"Fortunately," Wufei murmured.  
  
Duo's thumbs pressed against his temples, massaging lightly. "And you see me face all the time, Wu. We do live together."  
  
"Not this close, not touching like this. I want to see you." Wufei surprised himself with these words. They brought memories of Duo pressed close against him, asking him to... wanting to watch him... He flushed and ducked his head, resting it against Duo's chest.  
  
They both looked up in the same instant, the intimate moment temporarily pushed aside, ears tuned to the sounds outside. Wufei could hear one female voice and two male.  
  
"Not just the maid," Duo whispered. "Security?"  
  
"It's a safe bet. Someone must have seen us come in here." Duo remained silent for another moment before slipping off Wufei's lap. He heard the sound of nylon sliding against cloth. "You've got the violin?" he asked.  
  
"Yup. Let's hope it's a well-padded case."  
  
Nodding to himself, Wufei calmly tried to think of an escape plan. But before he got very far, "I'm totally snagging that skateboard for Quatre. You disarm the guards; I'll make a run for it and we'll meet up at the train." Wufei shook his head.  
  
"This place is a maze. What if one of us gets caught?"  
  
He could hear the smirk in Duo's voice. "We won't."  
  
"But-"  
  
Light flooded the closet as the door swung open and clothes were ripped off hangers. Harsh voices shouted. "Come out of there with your hands where we can see them."  
  
Wufei felt his mouth twisting into a snarl of excitement. Battle. "Be nice, Wu," Duo murmured half a second before the dragon sprang from where he was crouched on the floor. Without a sound he pounced on the security officers. Duo emerged from the closet a moment later, a lithe streak of black that snatched up the board leaning against the wall and then disappeared around the corner, even as the maid shrieked and pointed after him. But the men were in no shape to give chase. Hands moving with deadly efficiency, Wufei dropped one guard with a blow to the temple. The other, he flipped neatly onto his back, pressing a point on his neck until the man lost consciousness. He grabbed both guns from limp fingers and then yanked the chargers from their belts.  
  
Down, head down, he told himself. Damn, where are the stairs? Exit signs? He hoped Duo had made it out alright, but if there was anyone who could extricate himself from a sticky situation, it was that braided loony. Ah... fire escape. He slammed through the door and leapt down the metal steps before he heard the alarm sounding from inside. Great. And waiting at the bottom of the escape were seven more security guards, on their smoke break by the looks of it. They'd barely reached for their weapons before they found an armed dragon in their midst, feral grin turning up the corners of his mouth.  
  
+  
  
Quatre sat staring at his battered old violin, a blank expression keeping his fine features still. The case had suffered a few knocks, but the instrument was in tact. Duo leaned against the wall, chewing on his lips, trying to hide his eagerness and the natural high he experienced after a good heist. Wufei held some ice to his left cheek bone, not trying at all to conceal his annoyance that one of the officers had socked him in the eye when he'd been down on the ground. Well, there _had_ been seven of them. And they were all unconscious now.  
  
Quatre reached tentative fingers toward the neck of his violin, touching the strings with a feather-light caress. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, stroking the wood grain and gently plucking a few notes. He slowly let out his breath and brought the instrument up to rest between his chin and shoulder. His stitched mouth, the cut finally beginning to heal, pulled downward in a frown of concentration as he ran the bow over the strings. The sound sent chills up their spines. Wufei watched his flat-mates instinctively try to cover up their reactions, but he still caught Heero's widened eyes, Trowa's faint smile, and Duo's violet eyes disappearing behind trembling lids. And Wufei felt the music too. It made his chest ache just a little. When Quatre coaxed the high string into a piercing, mournful wail, the ice nearly slipped from his fingers. Abruptly, Quatre stopped playing, carefully placing the instrument back in its case. He looked up at his friends and Wufei saw tears running down his cheeks.


	17. Dick: Please Please Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**17\. Trowa**

Good times for a change  
See, the luck I've had   
Could make a good man turn bad  
So please please please  
Let me let me let me  
Let me... get what I want this time  
_\- "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want" The Smiths_  
  
Quatre perched on the end of his bed, lovingly tuning his violin. His chin molded to the body of the instrument, he carefully turned the pegs at the base of the strings, altering the pitch just slightly. He didn't need an electric tuner for this task; after so many years of playing he could do it by ear. Trowa sat across the room, accordion in his lap. He waited until Quatre was finished then tried out a few notes, eyes closing in concentration as he pulled and squeezed. It'd been so many years since he'd played in front of anyone else...  
  
But he'd done it for Quatre, knowing the boy needed help. And the only therapy Trowa knew how to administer, the only kind that had ever worked for him, was musical. So, he'd brought out the accordion and encouraged Quatre to practice his violin with him. They'd been nervous and awkward at first, fumbling through a few songs as though they were new lovers, exploring each other's bodies for the first time. Or at least that's how Trowa thought of it. Watching Quatre play -- especially once his bruises had faded and he could move without wincing -- was the most intimate experience he'd ever had. He felt privileged and slightly out of breath when he caught the boy's euphoric expression and when he saw slender back muscles bending and flexing beneath the thin fabric of a t-shirt. And he was frightened because he knew he was a goner. He'd never been in love before. The only love he'd ever experienced had been....  
  
Well, it had taught him a definition of normal that probably...wasn't. He'd been told it was okay for him to like it until he believed that he did. The transition from mercenary to hustler had been an easy one because of these teachings. Quatre was four years younger than him. And what Trowa felt was so utterly and wonderfully new that he refused to put a name to it; he refused to call it love because Quatre did not fit the profile of who had "loved" him in the past. Thank god.  
  
He crossed the room in a few strides, once they'd finished warming up, to stand next to his best friend. Quatre looked up at him, meeting his gaze and counting off softly, "1,2,3... 1,2,3..." The song was quiet and slow, an old French Revolution tune that Trowa had taught Quatre when they first played together. They'd continued to use it as a warm up since then. They liked that it was sad in the beginning, without hope, but that it rallied by the end. Mostly though, Trowa new that they just liked to watch each other play it. He could feel Quatre's eyes on him as his body swayed gently with the waltzing beat, fingers nimbly pressing keys on the right, buttons on the left.  
  
And Trowa liked to watch Quatre bend. The boy was classically trained and his posture was perfect. When he moved with a song, the muscles in his back flexed and pulled. The curve of his neck remained strong, but locks of bright hair shifted and fell into his eyes until he twitched them aside. His heal swung back and forth in time with the tune and sometimes when he concentrated, his tongue stuck out about a centimeter between tightened lips. Trowa noticed all these things, catalogued them, memorized them so he would always have them to call up behind closed eyelids. He did this without missing a note or a beat.  
  
At least he usually did. But today, when Quatre was preparing to head into the refrain of their song, something different happened. Later, after that day, Trowa would try to remember what was different about the way Quatre played the pickup into the refrain. He would realize that it wasn't anything that Quatre did, consciously. Just a lean, really. When the song changed, Quatre _leaned_ into the next part. And that was the sexiest thing Trowa had ever seen. And very suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. He'd been silently drowning for six months and in the middle of their song, he finally made his fear, pain and excitement known... by totally screwing up his part. He missed one note, then another, then forgot his part completely, and just stared at Quatre until the boy realized that his accompaniment had dropped out. He lowered his violin to his lap and looked up.  
  
"What's wrong? You never mess up that part."  
  
Trowa shrugged, knowing he had an uncharacteristically stupid smile on his face. Quatre's mouth quirked upward, unconsciously mirroring his expression.  
  
"What... did I mess up too? I don't think I- What are you smiling at?"  
  
"You." Trowa had no reason to hide this. In their months as friends, they'd always been openly affectionate, even though Trowa knew the smiles and the laughing were a bit of a show, that they wanted to put a good face on their friendship, even if they didn't particularly feel like being cheerful.  
  
Quatre laughed a little nervously. "Do I have something on my face?" He rubbed his nose, cheeks, and forehead as a pre-emptive gesture. Trowa shook his head, no, snapping his accordion together and sliding the straps from his shoulders. "Then what?"  
  
Trowa said nothing because he didn't know the words for the sensations radiating from his chest. So instead he approached Quatre slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Instead the boy slid off the bed towards him, standing now with the backs of his thighs pressed against the mattress.  
  
"Trowa..."  
  
The tall Frenchman looked into bright blue eyes, then down to a small nose, flushed cheeks, and pale, slightly parted lips. Finally they rested on the scar in the corner of his mouth. Still vivid and red, it looked painful. He met Quatre's gaze again. "Does it hurt?"  
  
The boy touched the scar delicately, running his fingers over the ridge of skin. "No, not really. Only when I think about how it happened."  
  
Trowa reached up and gently pulled his friend's hand away from his mouth. "Don't think about it then. I'm sorry I brought it up."  
  
"That's okay," Quatre answered quickly. "I'm over it. It happened and it's over now." He paused, scrubbing a hand through bright hair. "Um... what were you smiling about before? You didn't tell me."  
  
Trowa made the split-second decision to go with his gut and trust Maxwell's strategy of talking until it made sense. "I was watching you play and I got distracted. You looked... different... beautiful. And so I was smiling, because it felt good."  
  
Quatre was not smiling. This fact made Trowa's blood go still for several seconds, then all rush to his face. Why did Quatre look so serious?  
  
"I-I mean, I just wanted you to know that you're very beautiful when you play. That doesn't have to mean anything... else." All of Trowa's considerable skills of seduction were very suddenly elsewhere and the usually suave and subtle Frenchman felt large and awkward. 'Note to self: Talking, Bad.'  
  
Quatre abruptly turned away from him and Trowa seriously considered bolting for the door while his friend's back was turned. Be he squashed that desire and forced himself to stand still and watch Quatre carefully return his instrument to its case. Then the boy was back, leaning against the bed, his usually animated features perfectly expressionless. Quatre was not offering a smile for anyone's benefit this time.  
  
"Hey, forget what I said. It was out of line; I'm sorry."  
  
"Did you mean it? Do... you think that about me?"  
  
Trowa said nothing for a few seconds, wary of Quatre's meaning. "What- that you're beautiful?" A slight nod. "Yes, I did mean it, of course I meant it. Every time I see you -- since you were dragged cursing and kicking into our car at the club -- I thought you were..." He paused and took a deep breath. Okay, so much for 'Talking, Bad.' "Yes, I think you're beautiful.  
  
Another small nod. "Even with...?" He touched the scar again.  
  
Trowa smirked. "Dick is in much worse shape than you. That scar means you are a fighter. That's not beautiful, but it's sexy as hell." Quatre seemed to consider this for a moment, rolling the idea around in his brain. Finally he nodded again, a satisfied and somewhat predatory grin spreading across his pale features, an expression Trowa had never seen before.  
  
"That's settled then," Quatre said matter-of-factly.  
  
"What i-" Surprisingly strong hands grabbed his arms and firm lips captured his mouth in a hard kiss. Trowa's eyes opened wide and his senses went into a tailspin as he found himself suddenly held, kissed, groped, spun around and shoved onto the bed. Quatre stood beside him, breathing quickly, face flushed, that smirk tugging at his scarred mouth.  
  
"Was that okay?"  
  
Trowa stuttered something totally ineloquent in the affirmative, propping himself up on his elbows. He slid further back onto the bed as Quatre climbed up after him, straddling his legs.  
  
"Oh good, because I've been wanting to do that for awhile now and if it was the wrong thing, I think I would have jumped out the window."  
  
Trowa laughed. "It was perfect... Please don't jump out the window."  
  
"Can I kiss you again?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
+  
  
Trowa's lips felt swollen and more than a little tingly. He could feel bite marks along his collar bone and shoulders. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn't help a small smile when he thought of Quatre's mouth on him, biting, kissing, licking. His thick bangs were tangled and sweaty. He'd lost his shirt somewhere along the way and now, the sheen of sweat on his chest was evaporating, and he shivered slightly. His fingers were cold too. The room was chilly and he'd always had poor circulation. But he also had a warm body pressed flush along his, a tousled blond head resting against his chest, and cool fingers wrapped firmly around his ribs. No way in hell was he moving. He didn't even mind the cooling wet spot in his underwear. Under any other circumstances, he'd be scowling and heading for the bathroom. He hated that feeling. But not today.  
  
Quatre was dozing lightly on top of him, worn out after their brief but energetic tussle and hump on the bed. Admittedly, it didn't go quite as he would have liked. Too fast. Too Frantic. Not enough time exploring. Just kissing and biting and laughing and grinding and gasps and moans and, okay, so it was amazing. Trowa smiled up at the ceiling. He knew he was a sex snob. Christ, he did it for a living; he had a right to be one. Next time, if their was a next time, they'd do things his way. Slowly. Carefully. Deliberately. His smile grew wider as he watched Quatre's head rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing.  
  
Not just 'Quatre' anymore. "Lover," Trowa murmured, tasting the word, savoring it. "Quatre, will you be my lover?" he whispered. "Even though we can't physically be faithful to each other... my heart is yours if you want. It's yours."  
  
"Hm?" Sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him. "Did you say something?"  
  
Trowa smiled and shook his head, no. "Just wanted to see if you were awake." Quatre's returned smile was warm and languid and Trowa's stomach still did a little flip. Even now that they'd... now that they'd shown each other how they felt, he was still slipping and sliding and falling. The boy kissed the first skin he could find, lips pressing against Trowa's breastbone. Then his mouth traveled south, nipping smooth pale skin along the way. Trowa stretched and arched his back upwards, groaning softly in appreciation of his lover's expert mouth.  
  
"Quatre..." he breathed, then paused as the phone rang out in the living room. They shared a quick glance, Quatre poised in a most compromising position over Trowa's belt buckle. "Probably a job," Trowa said quietly. "You've got a little more time off, right?"  
  
The boy nodded and gave him a wicked grin. "It's probably for Wufei. His clients love the new haircut."  
  
Trowa snorted a soft laugh, listening for some clue from the half-conversation he could hear from Duo. He couldn't make out much -- which was odd considering how loudly Duo usually answered the phone. He usually said something ridiculously inappropriate and lewd to the anonymous voice relaying appointments for them. He heard footsteps approaching their room and together, they stood up, pulling on shirts and attempting to straighten mussed hair. Then there was a sharp knock on the door.  
  
"Quatre? You in there? Phone's for you."  
  
Wrinkling his brow in confusion, the boy pulled the door open. "Who would be..." His voice trailed off almost immediately when he came face-to-face with wide violet eyes, a pale face drained of all color, and the phone gripped in white-knuckled fingers. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's the doctor." Without a glance backward, Quatre snatched the phone and headed straight for the relative privacy of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Duo and Trowa exchanged worried glances but then Duo turned on his heel, disappearing into his room, reappearing after a moment with his coat. Quatre emerged from the bathroom a second later, and the two of them were out the door in the next second, leaving a confused and hurt Trowa standing alone in the doorway to his room.  
  
"Be home soon, lover," he murmured, guts twisting in anxiety, fingers absently pressing on his breastbone where, a few minutes earlier, Quatre's lips had been.


	18. Dick: Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**18\. Trowa**  
  
All the time we spent in bed  
Counting miles before we set  
Fall in love and fall apart  
Things will end before they start  
_\- Sufjan Stevens "Holland"_  
  
Trowa stood in front of the bathroom mirror, twisting his long torso around so he could see the emerging bruise on his lower back. It'd be a doozy. He'd hit his dresser pretty hard, not expecting the violent shove from Quatre, not expecting Quatre's violence or anger at all. But what had he expected? A fragile boy who needed his help and comfort? A weeping and broken child who'd suddenly been dealt another crap hand? Not hardly. Not even on the night he was taken from his family -- a worthless bunch who Trowa cursed daily -- did Quatre need that comfort. He may have allowed it; and Trowa believed he may have even liked it, coming from him, but he didn't need it. Quatre had a kind and giving heart, one that loved life, loved people and, Trowa thought, loved him. But that heart had a core of steel and was guarded by a bandolier of wicked-looking knives. It needed no one. Quatre could be cold and distant when his heart was in danger and when he'd finally come home, so many hours after he'd left for the doctor, his heart was under fierce guard, one that shoved Trowa into a dresser and gave him one hell of a bruise.  
  
The tall Frenchman grimaced at himself but then shrugged. His clients loved bruises. Some loved to give them; others just liked to see them. Bruises gave them power over him. And Trowa allowed it. He never hit back even though he knew dozens of ways to kill his clients with his bare hands. He'd tested most of them in years past. But now... he didn't want to hurt anyone. Selling people their pleasure, letting them have his body for an hour or two seemed fair enough. Let people take from him for awhile. He'd certainly taken enough.  
  
It was all fair in his mind, until today. When Quatre had kissed him. The stakes had changed over the course of one afternoon. Very suddenly, Trowa wanted his own body back, wanted to reinstate himself as sole owner and proprietor . He wanted control over his body so that he could give it to Quatre and only to Quatre. In their brief time together and the precious few minutes afterward, futures budded and bloomed in Trowa's mind, futures he never thought he'd see before today, futures he never thought he deserved. Most of them involved Quatre and himself leaving the country together, escaping the Family, running to Canada, or Australia, or Northern China or Argentina. Someplace remote and quiet and free of danger. Their futures involved lots of music and good food, food they could afford to buy and cook for themselves. They could sit down and eat it together because they'd have all the time in the world -- no jobs to rush off to. And there'd be lots of sex -- easy and slow sex, hard and fast sex, sex that lasted hours, sex on the floor, in bed, on tables, against walls, in the shower, outside, hidden and in plain sight. But above all, sex only with Quatre. Trowa had seen all this and for a brief time, he allowed himself to hope it would come to pass. But then Quatre had come home, soaked in sweat, rain and tears, and Trowa quickly put his plans on hold.  
  
+  
  
"Where have you been? Duo came home hours ago and you didn't. Where were you?" Trowa's voice was low and urgent. He knew his anxiety and concern were leaking out all over the place, knew Quatre could tell he was upset -- knew it, but didn't care.  
  
"I- was running for awhile. I needed some air." Quatre's voice was ragged and tired. He looked like hell. And he'd been crying. Trowa reacted on instinct, stepping forward and folding his best friend and lover into a strong embrace. The diminutive body in his arms went limp for about two seconds then rigid as a board.  
  
"No!" the boy shouted, pushing savagely at Trowa's chest.  
  
"Hey! What-"  
  
"Don't touch me!"  
  
"Why not? Quatre, what's wrong?"  
  
The boy backed away from him until he reached the couch. Trowa felt an intense need to follow him, sit beside him, touch him. It was liked a rope wrapped around his heart, tugging him forward. But he fought it.  
  
"Because it's not safe."  
  
"What?!" It came out as sort of a barking laugh, totally inappropriate and further evidence that Trowa was thoroughly out of sorts.  
  
"Don't laugh. Not you. Please, just be quiet for a minute." Trowa's mouth closed with a snap, and he watched with growing apprehension as Quatre readied himself to speak some horrible news. "You need to go to the clinic to get tested. You cleaned me up that night. And there was so much blood. You need to get checked out. The doctors will be calling here regardless, to make sure you come. Save yourself the hassle and get in as soon as you can."  
  
Trowa's blood filled with ice, brain leaping to the most logical and the darkest conclusion. Not Quatre. Fuck -- of all of them, not him.  
  
Quatre looked up, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. "I can see you want to, and god do I want you to, but don't touch me, Trowa. It's not safe. I'm- I'm not... safe anymore. You don't want me."  
  
The ice in his veins melted very suddenly and started to boil. His usual quiet monotone went up a few decibels. He shouted to drown out the static in his own head. "The hell I don't! Quatre, who have you been talking to? Why would you ever think that I could just-" He took a step forward and then paused, glancing around the apartment. They were all home. And the walls were thin. "Do the others know?"  
  
"If Duo told them. And I expect he did." Quatre sounded exhausted. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you."  
  
"He probably didn't think it was his place," Trowa murmured. Duo had a sense about things like that. And he knew how Trowa felt about Quatre. "Can we please talk about this in our room?" Without another word, they left the living room, the Frenchman rounding on his roommate the moment the bedroom door shut. "Don't... _fucking_ say things like that. How could you possibly think that it'd be unsafe for me to touch you? Of all the absurd..." Why was he yelling? This was the last thing Quatre needed. Christ, what was he doing? "Where did you get shit like that? Didn't they teach you in school... didn't the doctor-"  
  
"No, Trowa, they didn't!" Quatre shouted back, voice breaking. "I was fucking home schooled. Sex-ed was not a part of the curriculum. I'm 18 years old and before I started this fucking job, I'd never slept with _anyone_ let alone nearly raped by a... a... So, no, I don't have all the facts. I'm not like you. I'm- I was a stupid, naive kid who lost his virginity to a _john_ who never even told me his name. And now, I have this thing inside me that may eventually kill me, and I know nothing about it, because my parents didn't see fit to explain diseases that only gay men who have rough sex are supposed to get, because they didn't know I was gay and they sure as shit didn't think I'd end up fucking strangers for a living."  
  
"Wait, what-"  
  
"So you'll forgive me if I'm a little a skittish about you touching me because I don't _know_ what's in my body. I'd never heard of it before today." His biting tone shredded Trowa's anger to pieces and the screaming inside his head stopped. Confusion and doubt seeped in. How could he not have heard of... "I don't know what it will do to me, and I don't know what it could do to you and I couldn't live with myself if you got it from me. I do know that Richard Craven ruined me. My body isn't mine anymore; it's his. Even if I find him and kill him, my body has him inside it. And-" Trowa wanted to bury his head under a pillow or shove his fingers in his ears or shout loud enough to shut out Quatre's bitter voice. But he could only stare at his lover as his words bled all over the carpet. "I know I'm jumping to conclusions about things I don't understand. I know I'm panicking and making an ass of myself, but I don't know enough about what's happened to me. I only know that Craven stole my life and he stole you too. He ruined me for you. And I'm so sorry about that. I'm so sorry." He stopped, then, leaning heavily against Trowa's dresser.  
  
Trowa swallowed a few time, not at all sure where to begin. The beginning was probably as good a place as any. "Quatre, what exactly did the doctor say? Do you have the paperwork with you?" A slightly shaking hand handed him two sheets of paper. One was an order for blood work. The other... "Liver? Why do you need to see a liver doctor?"  
  
Quatre stared at him for a long second. He cocked his head to the side and then said very slowly, like he was speaking to a child, "Because I have acute hepatitis C, Trowa."  
  
Trowa blinked and looked down at the paper. Then he looked back up. "Wait a minute. You mean, you... So you're not positive?"  
  
Quatre shook his head in confusion. "Positive?"  
  
"HIV, Quatre. You don't have HIV."  
  
Quatre's eyes widened and he jerked back in surprise. "God, no. Why would you think I have HIV?"  
  
Trowa laughed, sharp and loud. An edge of hysteria tinged his normally calm voice. "Because you have sex with a different man every day of the week, because we're hustlers for fuck's sake and if we get sick and it's not something obnoxious like the clap, then we get... Jesus Christ, this is not a safe profession we're in, and, Quatre, you're sure you're not positive?"  
  
"Yes, of course I'm... obviously I'm sure. But, Trowa, I'm- not like I was. I'm not just me, I'm-"  
  
Trowa knew that he should be consoling his best friend, but his heart had nearly stopped a few minutes before, and he needed just a moment to revel in that fact that it had started up again.  
  
"I have to stop hustling. I have a blood disease, a virus. I can't work for Gael anymore."  
  
Trowa's brief euphoria came crashing down. He shook his head quickly. "No, of course you can't. You have to go back to your family. They'll take care of you; they have to." Quatre was shaking his head. "Why are you shaking your head?"  
  
"I can't just show up there. They won't just... welcome me home. They sold me to a drug lord; they want Dad's money and if I... it wouldn't be safe for me or for any of you. Gael would take it out on you for letting me leave and making it look like he failed my family."  
  
"Then go to the police or the press. You'd be protected. But, you need treatment. What you have is treatable if it's caught early."  
  
Quatre looked at the ground. "I... don't think I can leave you. If I went to the police and dragged my family through the mud for what they did, you would be..."  
  
"I would wait for you."  
  
Quatre looked at him, tired and unsure and still achingly confused and angry. Trowa realized the gravity of what he'd just said and looked away quickly, face flushing hot. They'd been together all of an afternoon and here he was, proclaiming his devotion, hours after Quatre was diagnosed with a potentially life threatening disease. He suddenly felt very stupid. He looked up again to see Quatre still watching him with conflicted blue eyes.  
  
Trowa decided to screw his embarrassment. If ever there was a time for him to proclaim his intentions, to reassure his best friend of his loyalty, it was now.  
  
"We can talk about this more in the morning, Quatre, but I wanted to tell you now. You won't be alone in this and I won't be afraid of it. The others won't be either. And I'm not going to give up on us, either. I won't catch anything from you by sharing your food, drink or bed. I won't catch it by kissing you, or touching you. I'm not going anywhere." Trowa took a deep breath. "So, I wanted you to know all that now. Up front."  
  
His best friend's was shaking his head, eyes narrowing, arms wrapped around himself, withdrawing. Trowa couldn't stand there watching that for a second longer, so he reached for him, again pulling him into a strong embrace. The reaction was instantaneous this time. All traces of fatigue fled as Quatre viciously lashed out, his small body stronger than men twice his size. Trowa found himself spun around and shoved into his own dresser.  
  
"Stop it! You can't just... you can't just _do_ that now!" Quatre shouted. Then he turned and fled the room. Trowa heard the bathroom door slam a moment later and sighed in relief. At lease he hadn't run off again. Gingerly getting to his feet, the Frenchman winced, knowing he'd have a nasty bruise in the morning.


	19. (Trowa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**19\. Trowa**

You said you'd never compromise  
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize  
He's not selling any alibis  
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes  
And say do you want to make a deal?  
_\- "Like a Rolling Stone" Bob Dylan_  
  
Trowa stood by the door to their bedroom straightening his collar and watching Quatre sleep. The boy looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, usually bright hair limp and greasy, scarred mouth drawn down in a frown. He looked beaten. Trowa tried to ignore the sharp stab of pain in his gut as he strangled the desire to go to Quatre's bedside and touch him, brush the hair from his forehead. He couldn't do that now, not without Quatre's permission. And he'd clearly revoked that privilege last night, when he'd also torn their future together away from both of them. Trowa could only hope that future was temporarily banished and not destroyed.  
  
He finally gave into temptation and knelt by the bed, resting his hands by Quatre's head. He murmured softly, half singing, half speaking the words to the only lullaby he knew, one of the few memories he had of his older sister. It had always comforted and reassured him.  
  
"I know not, I ask not if guilt's in thy heart  
I but know that I love you whatever thou art  
Thou has call me thy angel in moments of bliss  
And thy angel I'll be mid the horrors of this  
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue  
To shield thee and save thee or perish there, too."  
  
He swallowed and looked down at his hands. Then he stood up slowly, grabbed his bag and paused at the doorway. "I'll fix this, Quatre. I'll make it okay for you; I promise."  
  
+  
  
Of all the young men sharing that flat, only Trowa had ever become familiar with their boss's base of operations. The rest stayed away, preferring to do their jobs and be left alone. Even Heero, who wanted more than anything to be away from the hustling business, did not venture to the mansion. Trowa would have liked to stay away as well, probably more than any of them, but he had a job to do. While Heero painstakingly gathered information via his pirated hacking software on his stolen laptop, Trowa had volunteered to develop a physical presence within Gael's stronghold. Of the five of them, he would have the best chance of gaining Gael's trust. Heero was otherwise occupied, didn't want to encourage Gael's obsession with him and was, in general, far too surly for the job. Quatre was too new and an unwilling recruit to begin with. Wufei was about as subtle as a... dragon and Duo- well, he would have been the only other viable option, except he had a little too much personality. He would have been just a little too eager. There was nothing safe about Duo. Trowa could be all but invisible; he could be the color of water. Safe. Reliable.  
  
So, here he was, standing in front of the mansion, a willing participant in Heero's grand Escape Plan -- the idea for which Quatre had unwittingly been responsible many weeks before while Heero was recovering from an encounter with Cecile. He'd created a monster with that idea and now, Heero could not be torn away from his laptop. Much to Duo's chagrin, his best friend had all but disappeared into his software, spending hours and hours collecting, combing and filing away everything he learned.  
  
Trowa took a few deep breaths, calming his ragged emotions and tucking his long bangs behind one ear. He had to look presentable in this place. Today would be slightly different from other days spent at the mansion. On those days, Trowa pretty much hung around, waiting for odd jobs. Most people knew his name, knew he was harmless, an eager recruit who wanted to move up in the ranks. Most often he was asked to work as a messenger, traveling back and forth across the city, sometimes beyond, to deliver packages or bits of information deemed too sensitive for the post. Other days he did light bodyguard duty, essentially standing around outside a restaurant while a few suits did lunch. His favorite work was driving. He'd get his own car, sometimes for a whole week, and all he had to do was shuttle the suits around -- a private cabbie. A few times he'd been called to pluck some dealer out of a sticky situation, whisking the scum away before the cops arrived. Trowa liked driving. He didn't like playing the personal assistant -- coffee and lunch runs, taking all the boring phone calls. And he was, after all, a hustler, so occasionally, the boss called him in on last minute jobs. He was already on the premises anyway. Trowa did not particularly like those days, either.  
  
Today, however, would not be like those days. Trowa was walking in with his own request. He'd never done that before, never asked for anything before. But he sure as hell wasn't backing down, so with utter calm and steely cool, he walked inside the mansion.  
  
From the outside, it was an unremarkable building, just an old apartment complex in need of a paint job and some new bricks. On the inside, it was a palace that took up the entire city block. Trowa scoffed -- internally -- at the show of wealth, at the way in which Gael used the money Trowa and his friends had earned for him. He'd never been impressed by chandeliers and grand staircases, fountains and luxurious furniture. But this place wasn't designed for his simple tastes; it was built for a young and arrogantly rich drug lord. His hundreds of underlings had paid for this decadence with their labor -- selling drugs, selling sex, gambling and a host of other lucrative activities. Trowa swallowed his anger. How many had paid for it with their lives? If he didn't get help, Quatre would soon be one of their number.  
  
Trowa took no interest in the game rooms that took up entire floors, the ballroom, or the many dining rooms. Be passed by the dozens of private rooms devoted to more varieties of pleasure and pain than Trowa would have guessed possible. He'd seen a few of them and had no interest in seeing the rest. Offices were scattered throughout the mansion in seemingly random locations -- in the basement, tucked next to bathrooms, on the very top floor. Trowa guessed there were many more that he didn't know about, and he was certain that they were all kept so far apart because Gael didn't want any of his secrets in a centralized location. Good thinking, certainly. But even decentralized secrets weren't safe from Heero's thorough investigation. The kid should have gone to school for programming and security. He'd be making millions by now, at the age of 21. As it was, well, he made due with a hustler's sporadic income and a home-built laptop full of stolen parts. But Trowa knew he'd get his chance. They all would if their scheme actually worked. 'Up or out,' he thought as he went through security and headed straight for Gael's office.  
  
+  
  
"Hepatitis, is it? Well, that is unfortunate. Terrible. Give Quatre my sincerest apologies." Gael gave Trowa a sad smile. "I had no idea his client was capable of such cruelty."  
  
'Yes you did,' Trowa growled internally. 'You didn't listen when Duo told you he was dangerous. You only listen with your fucking pocket book.'  
  
Gael leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "What does young Master Winner plan to do now that his career opportunities have been so severely limited? He certainly can't go back to his family. Papa Winner's not dead yet. His sisters are not ready for him to come home."  
  
'He's planning to kill you, you fucking piece of silk-wrapped shit.' Trowa surprised himself with his vehemence. "Well, that's not really up to him, is it?" Trowa tried to sound as worried and concerned as possible. He let his anger nowhere near the surface. "He can't hustle anymore -- not like he used to -- and I don't think he'd do well selling anything else because... well, he's got 'narc' written all over him. And besides that... he's a pretty well-known face, even after all the time he's been missing. I think he'd be recognized."  
  
"What do you suggest then, Mr. Barton?"  
  
Trowa took a deep breath and gave Gael a quick measuring glance. He found the Boss to be monstrous and cruel, but he most definitely was not stupid. "Well, sir, I see one of two options. You could keep him hidden here, let him help with office work, or waiting tables at banquets."  
  
"Or?" Gael clearly did not like the idea of a boy who was essentially a hostage hanging around his place of business.  
  
"Or... you could give him a chance at some heavier work."  
  
"Such as?" Gael looked vaguely interested.  
  
Trowa plowed ahead. "He's an incredible athlete, sir. He moves quickly and quietly, and despite his size, he's quite strong. He's a crack shot, as well as an expert with throwing knives. Unusual form of defense, sure, but good in a pinch."  
  
Gael sat very still and stared at him for several seconds. Trowa stared right back. "What are you suggesting Mr. Barton? You want him to be a bodyguard?"  
  
Trowa shook his head, no. "He's too good for that," he said bluntly.  
  
"A hired gun then... or knife, as it were? That seems a bit..."  
  
"He would do excellent work as a bounty hunter, sir. In your line of work, you need invisible people. Quatre needs to be invisible for his own safety." Gael raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking interested. Trowa flushed and ducked his head. "He'd be a valuable investment, sir. This would prove to him that he's not been abandoned, that he can still work and earn his keep, even though he's... somewhat handicapped."  
  
Gael was smiling but his eyes were sharp. It was a calculating look and Trowa didn't like it, but at least he wasn't outright rejecting the idea. "Quatre Winner: heir to a fortune, golden-haired hustler, cold-blooded hunter." The grin widened and Trowa flinched internally. Quatre... would do the job well. The Frenchman could see it in him, had recognized it after he'd known the Winner heir a very short time -- the boy had taken lives before. He could do it again if he had to. Though hopefully, the majority of his jobs would be round-ups, returning people alive. "I like it -- what a story. What a turn of events!"  
  
Trowa kept his expression neutral while he cringed inside his own head. 'This is all your fault, and I swear I will take you down for it,' he gritted silently. 'I'll let Quatre kill you, but I'll bring you there.'  
  
"I will require a test of loyalty, of course," Gael murmured, half to himself.  
  
What did that mean?  
  
"Mr. Barton, do you think he'd be willing to clean up the nasty affair of his infection?" Trowa's heart abruptly sped up. "Do you think he'd be willing to face the man who violated him and left him with his illness? Would he take care of him?"  
  
Trowa felt his mouth twist upward in a fierce grin. Perhaps Gael did have a heart -- or at least a sense of balance. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Excellent!" Sometimes, he really was like an excited teenager, just as Heero said. "I'll expect him to complete the job as soon as possible. That particular client has become more trouble than he's worth. Always making messes. I'm glad to finally have someone to clean it up." And sometimes, he was the cold, collected drug lord, just as Heero said. It was all so matter-of-fact. So simple. How could this have been so easy? Trowa almost sagged in relief. But then he remembered the most important reason for his visit.  
  
"Sir... one other thing." Gael arched an eyebrow expectantly. "About Quatre's treatment. I... went to the library this morning and looked into what it entails." Gael waited. "It's two drugs administered at the same time. One's an anti-viral. Here are the names." He slid the print-out across the boss's desk, and waited for him to pick it up. When he made no move to, he clenched his jaw and continued. "Many patients who catch the disease early, which Quatre has, are successfully cured by this treatment. Or at least the viral load is reduced enough to be nearly undetectable. But... side effects are pretty serious, the first and most common being extreme fatigue. As I said before, sir, I think Quatre would do excellent work for you, but while he's undergoing treatment, he won't be... well, he'll need lots of rest."  
  
Gael cocked his head to the side and gave him a small smile. "You care for him. Deeply."  
  
Trowa tried not to alter his posture, but he felt himself stiffening, withdrawing. Gael didn't need to know about that part of his life, of their lives. "I'm concerned for his safety and his health. It affects all of us."  
  
Their gazes locked and for the next several moments, they measured each other in silence. Trowa realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to relax. Gael looked down at his desk and finally picked up the information Trowa had printed for him.  
  
"This is what will happen, Mr. Barton," he said eventually. "Quatre is now a member of this family and has been for the last half year. I take care of my own. So he will receive treatment if he wants it. He will see a specialist I pick for him as I can't risk him going to the hospital on a regular basis. But he must also work for it. I don't tolerate freeloaders. I'll expect excellence from him, even if he is fatigued." Gael looked up. "I want him to be brilliant and healthy just as you do, but I'm also a money-grubbing cheapskate. And you already know I'm a monster. I'll help him, but he'd better be working."  
  
And that was as much as he could hope to get from Gael, so Trowa nodded and thanked him from the bottom of his heart, while in some distant part of his brain, a part that'd been bred deep but remained hidden, he watched his boss with the cold calculation of a professional assassin. That part of his brain was counting how many days Gael had left to live.  
  
"Of course there will have to be some form of payment for this favor."  
  
"Payment, sir?" Trowa had been expecting this.  
  
"Oh, nothing much, nothing you aren't capable of handling. Oh, don't look at me like that, Mr. Barton. I wouldn't ask you for _that_ kind of payment. God knows, you give enough of it already. What I need from you, Trowa is information. I have this feeling that things have suddenly gotten very interesting in your little corner of the world." Trowa's blood ran cold. "And since I like to keep a close eye on my workers and how they're getting along, I want you to tell me." Trowa's mind was racing. "And you had better tell me the truth, because I will know when you lie."  
  
Until Trowa met Quatre, he felt as though he could leave his job and the family behind at any time he chose. Until he agreed to be Heero's spy, voluntarily spending a good portion of his day under Gael's nose, he was sure he was only hip-deep. Until Trowa and Quatre kissed, he'd still felt like he had some breathing room, even though he knew the water was lapping at his chest. Now, with this request -- asking him to spy on his own friends -- Trowa felt sure that he was drowning.


	20. Dick: Finished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**20a. Quatre**

And in my best behavior  
I am really just like him  
Look beneath the floor boards  
For the secrets I have hid  
_\- "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." Sufjan Stevens  
_  
There was no partitioning this time, no sparing his tender psyche. He did not try to hide behind an innocent smile, nor did he accommodate his client's 'quirks.' There was only blood and bone and spit and breath. Pain and anger and more pain and finally, silent, grim satisfaction. He was not surprised by the ease with each he killed Richard Craven. He knew that violence lived inside his 'charmingly petite' frame. It was Trowa who'd misunderstood which emotions needed to be protected. 'Caged' would have been a more accurate term. Sure, Quatre felt shame and embarrassment about what he'd had to do for a living. He'd wanted to keep as sunny an outlook as possible for his friends, his clients and for himself. He'd wanted to preserve his happiness, keep it safe and wrinkle-free so that he could wear it for Duo and Heero and Wufei. For Trowa. Wear it for himself. But, sunny outlook or not, Quatre was not an innocent, a child who'd been ripped from his bright future as a millionaire heir. He did not need the protection of his roommates. And he didn't particularly need Trowa's mind tricks. Perhaps he'd thought he did, for a time. When he was trying to fit in, become one of the five. They'd worked a little too well, those tricks, almost convinced him he was just a kid thrown into a shitty situation. They had allowed him to make a place for himself, such as it was. But now they were useless. Quatre Winner was whole again. The cage had been lifted and he was all here -- happy kid, funny kid, artistic kid, kind, gentle, empathetic, intelligent, sharp, suspicious, paranoid, quick-tempered, volatile, violent... kid. Athlete. Killer. No more hiding.  
  
+  
  
Craven had laughed at him when he'd shown up at the man's flat. Quatre was dressed all in black, his white gold hair hidden under a black cap, his throwing knives strapped across his chest. He'd laughed when Quatre, without a word, drew one of his knives and came at him with all the speed and grace of a gymnast, narrowly missing his stomach in an arcing slice at his middle. The big man was fast and able to dodge in time, elbow coming down a moment later to connect with the boy's spine, sending him to the ground in a heap. Quatre rose to his feet only go down again when a sharp backhand threw him against the low table in the middle of the room. His head cracked on the wood and he almost blacked out. He lay there for several seconds, looking up at the ceiling, telling himself that this was not his day to die. Craven approached, clucking his tongue in mock derision. Quatre stared up at him, still silent, throwing dagger still in his fist. He took a few, slow deep breaths and rolled, coming to a crouch by Craven's legs, knife darting out so quickly that it was the tiniest glint in the dim light. The big man grunted in surprise and abruptly stopped laughing when he realized the dazed and bleeding boy had sliced the ligaments and tendons holding his knees together.  
  
+  
  
Quatre's face was still blank as he drove the knife into the fallen man's shoulder. Craven grunted and his eyes clouded with pain. But he remained silent, tears leaking down his cheeks.  
  
Quatre drove another knife into his other shoulder. The man shuddered and swallowed convulsively, face gray and sweating.  
  
"Do you remember me?" Quatre asked softly, backing off a few paces to crouch by the table. He kept his palms flat on the ground. He looked like a wild thing ready to pounce.  
  
Craven nodded, turning to look at his attacker. His dark gaze stopped at Quatre's scarred mouth. "I remember those lips." His gaze continued down the boy's body. "And your ribs. I remember thinking your ribs looked like long fingers curled under your skin. And I remember your hip bones and your white thighs and…" He paused. "Of course I remember you. You were beautiful."  
  
Quatre's scar twisted in a sneer. "Yes, I was."  
  
"And you worked hard."  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"You should thank me."  
  
"Why's that, exactly?"  
  
"I made you stronger."  
  
"You infected me. Poisoned me."  
  
"You can face anything that comes at you. You will be fearless."  
  
"I don't want fearless. I want Trowa Barton. And you took him from me."  
  
Craven looked away, up at the ceiling. "I never had him. He was next on my list. Duo was unsatisfactory. He liked it too much. He was weak. You were perfect. Trowa could not have measured up to your brilliance, I feel certain."  
  
"I found it interesting that Gael would let you go through us one by one, when he must have known what kind of monster you are. It was somewhat enjoyable to ponder what Heero and Wufei would have done to you if you'd tried to hurt them. I almost wished they could meet you, just for that reason. You have to understand that I felt very angry and sorry for myself immediately following our encounter. I wanted others to know how afraid I had been, how much I was hurt." Quatre touched a gloved finger to his mouth, rubbing the still-red scar. " But then I learned something very, very interesting just the other day and suddenly I understood why both Duo and I had to put up with you, why the others would too, unless I did something."  
  
"And what did you learn?"  
  
"That you were on the payroll. Gael signed your checks too."  
  
"Still does. Just deposited one today."  
  
"It's your last… Dick."  
  
"I suspected as much."  
  
"You're quite calm for someone who's about to die."  
  
"I don't see much point in getting worked up in the face of death. Not very dignified."  
  
"Yet you froth at the mouth at the prospect of raping someone half your size. That's not very dignified either."  
  
Craven tried to shrug and winced. He cast a quick glance at Quatre and then slowly, painstakingly raised his right arm, blood dribbling out of the knife wound. Quatre watched him, eyes narrowing. Then, quick as a snake, the man's fingers wrapped around the hilt of Quatre's knife and wrenched it free. Quatre sprang to his feet, another knife in hand, but he froze in shock as the big man reversed his grip on the blade and hurled it straight at Quatre's heart. The boy spun away, but not fast enough as the blade slammed into him, knocking him backwards. He fell, landing on the low table he'd hit earlier, pulling the blade from between his ribs even before he came to rest. Grinding his teeth, he let a strangled cry of pain escape as he flipped himself back on his feet. The knife left his fingers in that same fluid motion and took Craven in the throat, killing him almost instantly. The man gurgled, blood and saliva leaking out of his mouth. Just as his eyes went dim, Quatre limped to his side.  
  
"Gael says hello. He says to tell you I'm the new game in town, taking over for you." Quatre sank to his knees next to the corpse, and retrieved his knife, wiping it on the dead man's shirt. He tried to take a breath and coughed, a hard and sharp sound that ended in a sticky wheeze. He spit out blood and wiped his mouth, muttering, "Or I will be once I get this mess patched up."  
  
+  
  
Thankfully, Heero was the only one home when Quatre staggered into the flat. He knew he needed to get to a hospital, but he didn't want to go alone. And he didn't want to go with Trowa or Duo because they'd... care too much. And he didn't want to call for help from Craven's place because... well, Craven was there and so, really, this was the best way. Just Heero.  
  
He'd been on his way from the kitchen to his bedroom, bowl of stir fry in hand, when Quatre almost fell through the door and leaned against the armchair, trying not to bleed all over the upholstery.  
  
"Heero," he hissed.  
  
"Quatre!" He quickly set down his food and approached him warily, eyes wide. 'Yes, be afraid,' Quatre thought darkly. "What happened? Where are you injured?"  
  
Quatre let his bag slide off his shoulder, quickly following it to slump against the back of the chair. "Knife in... ribs." He couldn't catch his breath to use his voice, so he whispered. "Punctured lung, I think. Concussion from... here," he gasped, pressing his hand against the bloody cut on the back of his head.  
  
Dark blue eyes widened and he grabbed for the phone on the coffee table.  
  
"Yes... Ambulance." He barely heard Heero's quick exchange with the operator, then strong hands were touching him, gently pulling aside his blood-soaked hair, pulling back his coat to look at the knife wound.  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Yes. It hurts."  
  
"Don't talk."  
  
"Okay... you'll ride with me, right? Hospital?"  
  
"Stop talking. And we can't go to the hospital. You can't be seen. We're going to one of Gael's doctors. I'm taking you downstairs to meet the driver."  
  
"Right." Heero picked him up then like he weighed no more than a child. and walked back out the door.  
  
  
**20b. Heero**  
  
Even if I come back, even if I die  
Is there some idea to replace my life?  
Like a father to impress  
Like a mother's mourning dress  
If you ever make a mess  
I'll do anything for you  
_\- Sufjan Stevens_  
  
Heero sat by Quatre's bed, watching him sleep. The boy looked reasonably peaceful. He looked exhausted, but he was out cold. Hopefully he'd look better when he woke up. Heero rubbed his arms briskly, wishing he'd grabbed a sweater before they left. This office was freezing. Trowa could bring him one. Heero doubted the Frenchman would stay away long, despite Heero's assurances that they'd be home the next day. All three of them were ready to run out the door and storm the doctor's office, but Quatre's last gasped words before they took him back were, "Tell them I'm fine. I don't want anyone else here. Please stay until I wake up." And Heero had abided by those wishes.  
  
The nurse came then to check on them and to tell Heero that he'd have to leave soon. "But I have to be here when he wakes up. He asked me to be here."  
  
The nurse smiled and nodded. "It's alright. I'm waking him now. He's mildly concussed, so we've got to check every hour or so."  
  
"I could stay and do that," Heero said quickly, loathe to leave Quatre when he'd promised to stay.  
  
Another smile, but she shook her head, no. "Say what you need to while he's awake this time. The night nurse will keep an eye on him after you leave."  
  
Heero nodded and stepped aside as the nurse gently roused Quatre, checking his eyes and all his vital signs. She asked him a few questions about pain levels, then left, winking at Heero before she walked out. Heero blinked in confusion and then went to sit next to his flat-mate. "Are you in pain?" The young man in the bed opened big sleepy eyes and shook his head, no. "Do you need anything -- water? or another pillow?"  
  
Quatre smiled and shook his head again. "Thank you for staying, Heero. You didn't have to." His voice came out as a harsh whisper. It sounded painful.  
  
"You asked me to," he answered immediately. An easy silence fell between them and, for several minutes, they just sat; Heero going over Quatre's figure again and again, trying to see any hidden injuries, knowing there were plenty. Quatre stared out the window, as a cloudy evening turned into a cloudy night. Finally, afraid that the boy would fall asleep again, Heero cleared his throat. He waited a moment, then did it again, needing to ask the question that had been burning in his brain since Quatre had come home.  
  
"What is it?" Quatre asked drowsily, eyes swinging back toward him.  
  
"Did you kill him? Did you finish it?"  
  
Bright blue eyes turned to steel and a quick nod in the affirmative answered Heero's question.  
  
"How did you do it?"  
  
"... Cut his throat."  
  
"Hn. That was it?"  
  
A ghost of a smile played across Quatre's lips. "I sliced up his knees pretty well and stabbed him in both shoulders first."  
  
Heero nodded, satisfied. "Fucker got off easy."  
  
"I talked to him, too. I tried to stay quiet. But I... I wanted to hurt him so badly. And I did. Made him bleed, crippled him. But it wasn't enough. I had to tell him. I wanted to scream at him; it was a pressure in my chest to just scream as loud as I could. But…" He reached pale fingers up to touch his bandaged chest. "Stalling got me in trouble; gave him time to go after me." He paused and his words turned inward. "Won't happen again. Won't need to; I won't know any of the others."  
  
Heero put that last comment aside, choosing to ignore it and analyze later. It was the pain killers talking, probably. "I understand why you did... want to yell at him. Killing him wasn't enough. I - the same thing happened to - well, Duo was- " He stopped and then tried again, unsure of why he wanted to share an intensely personal and painful memory, but feeling it was needed. "They had him down and..."  
  
"Heero," Quatre whispered. "Have you ever killed anyone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"They were hurting Duo... and me. I killed two of them. I yelled and screamed and swore, too. And they still put us both in the hospital."  
  
"Are you sorry you killed them?"  
  
"No. Are you sorry?"  
  
"No... but this isn't the first person I've killed." Heero took this in silently. He was not surprised. "There were two."  
  
"Why did you do it?"  
  
"They... wanted too much from me. They were stealing from me."  
  
"Are you sorry you did it?"  
  
Quatre looked away out the window. "Sometimes. Not as often as I should be. They were kids my age. Knew that I had money. Heard I was a push-over. I got mad, and they cornered me. And... I killed them."  
  
"I- would not have thought that-"  
  
"Don't tell me _you_ think I'm a pushover," Quatre said turning back, blue eyes regaining some of their brightness.  
  
"...when I first met you," he finished.  
  
"Oh. Yeah."  
  
"But I know now that you are a fighter. I know you're strong." Heero met Quatre's gaze and tried to put all his feelings into those words. He wanted to tell Quatre that Craven may have infected him, but that didn't mean he was worth less or that any of them would treat him differently. But of course he couldn't say those things; he didn't work that way. Watching Quatre, gaging his response, Heero thought he probably got the message.  
  
"Heero?"  
  
"Hn?"  
  
"When can we get out of here?"  
  
"In the morning. The doctor wants to keep you overnight and I have to leave soon. But I'll be back first thing to pick you up."  
  
"No, I mean... when can we leave this... town, this life? I don't want to be here anymore."  
  
Heero looked down at his hands, balling them carefully into fists. "Soon. I hope soon. We're not ready yet. But I'm working on it. Soon." 


	21. Rooftop Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**21\. Duo**  
  
We slip through the streets  
While everyone sleeps  
Getting bigger and sleeker  
And wider and brighter  
We bite and scratch and scream all night  
Let's go and throw  
All the songs we know...  
Into the sea  
You and me  
_\- "Lovecats" The Cure_  
  
Their feet made very little sound as they hit the ground, just soft rubber striking pavement and a minute shifting of gravel. It wasn't a race, but they kept the pace brisk and the kilometers fell away under the steady rhythm of their track shoes. Duo admired Wufei's stride -- even and sure, smooth and effortless. He didn't doubt that the kid could probably go like that forever. He made it look so easy. Duo loved everything about running: how easy it looked and how hard it actually was to keep a good pace, the sweat, the pain and the pleasure he felt when he hit his stride and his legs just went. Duo knew he was a bit of a geek when it came to running. He wondered if Wufei felt anything like that.  
  
He wondered if Wufei had run track back in high school. Every now and again, Duo thought about what it would have been like attending school, if Heero and he could have been normal kids. Duo knew they'd both have been extremely competitive. Soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter, track in the spring. Art classes, literature and writing. It could have been great. Of course school would have also meant math and science and hall passes and cafeterias and shit heads who gave him grief for his braid. He'd suffer the occasional beating for being a fag, too. On second thought, school would have sucked; way over-rated.  
  
"What are you thinking about, Maxwell?" Wufei's voice jerked him out of his daze, and he almost tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. "Because I can hear the wheels turning."  
  
"Bite me, Chang."  
  
"You would be so lucky" They turned in to the park and headed toward the pond, lengthening their stride down the hill.  
  
"I was just thinkin' about you in high school, actually. I bet you were a brat."  
  
Wufei snorted. "You are not wrong."  
  
Duo grinned and shot a glance at his friend. "Really?"  
  
"I barely talked to anyone. I was too wrapped up in my studies, my martial arts and my running."  
  
"Ha! I knew it!"  
  
"That I was a brat? Shouldn't that have been obvious?"  
  
"That you were a runner. I can just tell these things."  
  
"I know you can, and it disturbs me to no end."  
  
"You don't like the fact that I'm perceptive?"  
  
"I don't like that you use those skills thinking at any great length about me. Makes me uncomfortable."  
  
Duo suddenly realized they'd crossed over into potentially dangerous territory. "Why?"  
  
"You know why, Duo."  
  
And he did. The degree to which he paid attention to Wufei -- his moods, mannerisms and his body -- made the dragon uncomfortable. He didn't think he deserved the time spent on such idle observation. Duo disagreed. Watching Wufei, especially now they were... more involved than before, was one of his favorite things to do. Since he was hardly ever able to get Wufei alone, observation and fantasizing was about all he could get. Plus, of course, memories of their few encounters in Wufei's room, in the library bathroom, in the empty Pets isle at the grocery store, up against the... Duo forced his brain to blank, and focused his body on the task of sprinting up the hill.  
  
Their eyes narrowed, arms fiercely pumping, legs churning in the soft earth. Duo's legs were longer, but Wufei was faster, so they reached the crest at almost the same time, both gasping for breath, Duo's grin wide and slightly predatory. "Beat you."  
  
"Did not," Wufei responded, bent over, hands on his knees.  
  
"Did too."  
  
"In your dreams, Maxwell. I was clearly ahead of you."  
  
"Not from my angle, you weren't"  
  
"And what angle was-"  
  
"I think I deserve a victory prize. What do I get?" He watched the dragon straighten, a retort on his lips, but then he realized how close Duo stood and onyx eyes grew wide in surprise. Duo inhaled deeply, catching the scent of pines, mud from the pond at the bottom of the hill and Wufei's fresh sweat. They stood face-to-face, silent and unsure.  
  
"You didn't win," Wufei finally said.  
  
Duo looked down at his feet and took another step closer, the dragon reflexively stepping back. He looked back up into wary and slightly suspicious eyes. "Will you just say I did and let me pick my prize?"  
  
The dragon swallowed, resolve clearly weakening. "No, because you didn't win."  
  
"How 'bout a tie?" Duo took another step closer, reaching out and laying his hand flat on the damp fabric directly over Wufei's heart. He could hear the muscle beating frantically against ribs.  
  
"Y-you know you never answered my question."  
  
"What question."  
  
"From Winner's mansion, in the closet, that day."  
  
"That was a fun day: theft, a fight and 30 minutes locked in a small dark space with you. Just about the perfect day, actually." They were slowly backing up into a grove of trees, Duo's view of the park changing to large oaks all around him and a sweating, glowing Wufei in front of him.  
  
"I said... I'd feel better if you had a reason for wanting... and you said you'd think about it. But you haven't really said anything since then, even though we've been together a few times since..."  
  
Duo removed his hand from Wufei's chest, momentarily uncomfortable. "Oh, right. That." He looked away up into the trees and tried to sort out thought from instinct. He wanted to push Wufei up against one of these conveniently located trees and run his hands along as much of that coppery skin as he could. He didn't want to have to explain why he wanted to do it. He didn't want to delve into the reasons for wanting intimate contact with his loyal friend, flat-mate and coworker. He just...  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he said finally, watching Wufei quickly bury his initial hurt at those words. "I just... there's no need for a 'why' right now, is there?" He reached tentative fingers around Wufei's waist, touching his stomach and hip bone. The dragon shivered. "Wufei... it's _you_. What more of an explanation do you need?"  
  
Duo was rewarded with a rare smile, and he took another small step forward. This time, Wufei did not back away, but drew their bodies together. Duo's senses were suddenly overloaded with slick skin, the sharp tang of sweat and the soft, warm breath of his dragon lover. He didn't particularly know what Wufei wanted from him and he sure as hell didn't know what he wanted from Wufei, but... this was good. How much could they logically ask for, anyway? They were hustlers, for god's sake. A real relationship, whatever that was, would only bring disappointment and hurt for both of them. And Duo didn't want to see that in Wufei's eyes. They had to keep this casual. No strings.  
  
He dropped to his knees in front of his friend, reaching up to tug on the waistband of Wufei's track pants. He started to pull down, but strong hands took hold of his and stilled them.  
  
"Duo-"  
  
"Come on, Wu."  
  
"I-"  
  
"You know it'll be good."  
  
"You don't have to do that for me."  
  
Duo looked down at his knees, suddenly embarrassed. Couldn't he do anything right? What were they supposed to do as lovers if not this? Those strong hands pulled him to his feet and he looked into expressive obsidian eyes. Those eyes examined him closely, without hesitation, until Duo flushed and had to look away. Those eyes wanted...  
  
"Would you kiss me again?" Wufei asked quietly. Duo laughed nervously and nodded, feeling oddly relieved. Resting his elbow on Wufei's shoulder, he pushed the dragon's knit cap off his head and leaned in to nip at his earlobe. He took in another breath of his lover's scent and licked the sweat from his neck. Wufei's arm went around his waist and pulled him closer, against wiry muscle and smooth skin. Duo smiled into their kiss.  
  
So... no strings. He wondered just what counted as a string, anyway.


	22. Rooftop Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**22\. Heero**

Look me in the eye  
Then, tell me that I'm satisfied  
Was you satisfied?  
Look me in the eye  
Then, tell me that I'm satisfied  
Hey, are you satisfied?  
_\- "Unsatisfied" The Replacements_  
  
Wufei was taunting him, with that smirk and the relaxed, almost casual way he fought. Wufei was watching and measuring... and taunting. Heero kept his fists loose and ready, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to measure in return, but wanting nothing more than to pin that wiry body to the floor and declare his victory. Heero knew he'd been edgy and impatient lately, and he couldn't seem to curb that. This fight - along with the many which had preceded it over the last weeks - was supposed to clear that up so he could get back to work and wrap up the details of all the data he'd gathered over the past few months. He'd hidden it in neat little packets all over the Internet, as ads and spam emails and garbled error messages. The information he had gathered was everywhere and only he knew how to assemble it all to provide an accurate, crippling and hopefully deadly indictment of Gael's Family and its dealing. It was essentially all there, he was basically done, but he was... he was going nuts in the meantime. His patience was at an end.  
  
He lunged forward and swung, Wufei catching the blow easily on his forearms. Heero's other fist came very close to Wufei's gut, but he managed to block that one too, elbow darting up, aimed at Heero's nose. He bent backwards and then twisted, bare foot catching Wufei's hip. His partner staggered back and sneered. "Is that the best you can do? That's pathetic, Yuy." Heero growled and spun into a vicious kick that Wufei again managed to block, but Heero stuck to him with a flurry of punches that drove him back and set his sharp features in a mask of concentration.  
  
Heero should have had enough fuel for this fight. His frustration had been building with every encounter they had, even as his body craved the natural high of unflinching, unfettered motion. Each fight was simultaneously relief and added tension. He wanted, _needed_ , to fight now. Energy coiled through him, in his shoulders, chest, fingers, and calves. It crouched in his gut and in his groin, poised and waiting for release.  
  
Duo had laughed when Heero had tried to explain this need. Duo had told him he needed to get laid, needed to work off his sexual tension. Heero had replied that he'd just gotten laid that afternoon.  
  
"Ah yes," his best friend had nodded wisely. "Your sex life is admittedly quite... active. But what you _need_..." he purred, "is to fuck someone you _want."_  
  
Heero had scoffed at the very idea that what he, Heero Yuy, sex worker, needed was more sex. At the moment, what he needed was right in front of him, smirking and nearly spitting condescension.  
  
Heero shook himself and once again, focused on the sources of his tension, letting them swirl in his mind as a sort of meditation and as the strength upon which he relied to counter Wufei's swift -- and incredibly difficult to see -- strikes. He focused on the way his heart ached and his gut burned every time he saw the way their lives were rapidly unraveling, every time he tried to gather the fraying threads and hold them together until he could finish his work and set them all free. He fought Wufei with every scrap of frustrated energy he had, fueling it with his concern for Quatre, who withdrew further from them every day, tumbling free-fall into the new life their Boss had given to him. He'd hunted down three bounty heads already and was waiting to start treatment until he got more of a rhythm down. He was worrying them all. He thought of Trowa drifting about the flat like a ghost, eyes following Quatre everywhere he went. Heero didn't know the extent of their relationship, but he could guess that it'd been jerked from under their feet when Quatre learned of his illness. And it wasn't helped by his new job either. Heero fueled his fight with the shameful envy he felt every time he thought about Quatre working a job that... wasn't hustling. Heero could do Quatre's job, probably better than Quatre, but the lengths to which Gael would go to humiliate and wear him down knew no bounds. His boss would keep Heero hustling until he caved and accepted Gael's offer of an unequal partnership -- live with him, share his power, have access to his business and his money, be free of his friends and their problems. He'd no longer sell sex; but he'd still be sold to one person, and that was one too many for him. Plus, he'd have to leave Duo, which he could never, ever do.  
  
And therein lay the true source of his anger, frustration and ache. The past months and especially the last few weeks had seen a drastic reduction in the amount of time they were able to spend together. Yet Heero's feelings for his best friend had not diminished. In the mornings, before he went to work either for a client or on his laptop, he went to Duo's bed and knelt down beside it. He watched the young man sleep, and sometimes, when he felt courageous - or desperate - he touched the long braid resting on its owner's pillow. He knew that the timing wasn't right for he and Duo to... be in any sort of romantic relationship. Hell, he didn't know the first thing about relationships, and he wasn't sure what he even wanted from Duo.  
  
More. He knew that much. He wanted to wind that braid around his fist and... claim Duo. And he wanted Duo to do the same to him; shove him up against a wall, pin his hands above his head, strip him of his power, make him vulnerable, and say "Heero, you're mine." He needed that pact. He felt like it had been there, for a time, unspoken. Now, there was distance and he felt he could only watch Duo from across that distance, when what he really felt, down to his core, was... 'I'm already his and he doesn't know it.'  
  
He imagined Duo opening his eyes to see Heero kneeling beside him, imagined him sitting up, all slim muscle and loose posture, imagined them leaning closer together, bodies almost touching. Hands on thighs, ribs, chest, neck; fingers running through hair, tugging and pushing. Would they kiss? Heero didn't think he knew how to kiss anyone. If any of his clients kissed him, he'd been too far gone, locked away in his own head to notice. He'd certainly never kissed back. He could picture kissing Duo, or trying. He pictured it being a disaster. Duo, graceful and flexible, passionate and strong; him stiff as a board, awkward, unsure, scared of hurting his closest friend. Heero _did not_ react well to proximity; hence the disappearing act when he worked. If he didn't put his brain somewhere else, he'd probably hurt his clients when they touched him.  
  
Dangerous reflexes. Lethal reflexes, more likely. But he wouldn't hurt Duo. They'd known each other too long. Duo had long ago infiltrated Heero's defenses.  
  
Heero thought he might like to try kissing, but only if Duo initiated it and showed him how. The prospect of initiating anything with Duo was utterly terrifying, so he usually tried not to think about it.  
  
But today, as Wufei finally got hold of his wrist and flipped him neatly onto his back, as impatience and frustration welled up within him, he let it out through his fists and and feet. He caught the foot whistling towards his middle and twisted, sending his partner sprawling. He offered Wufei a hand up, and looking slightly surprised, the dragon accepted it, only to find himself jerked to his feet, a knee headed straight for his breast bone. Wufei landed back on the floor with a thud, struggling for breath.  
  
Heero scowled; he hadn't meant to strike that heard. Wufei pressed his hand to his chest. "So, 'fair' is out the window as of now?"  
  
"We were fighting fair?" He forced derision into his voice.  
  
"We have been so far," Wufei said with a sniff.  
  
"Chang, when have you _ever_ known me to fight fair?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"I don't know how to fight fair," he murmured in a low deadly voice. Wufei, still massaging his diaphragm back to life, scowled up at him. "No one ever taught me, and I never had the inclination to learn. You should have picked up on that by now."  
  
Wufei may have nodded in acknowledgment, but Heero would never know, because suddenly, he found himself on his back again, Wufei once more standing over him. "Just try that again, Yuy. You want dirty, I can do that."  
  
Heero smirked and rose to his feet, absently rubbing the back of his head where it'd hit the floor. "I didn't think dirt stuck to you, Chang," he sneered. The dragon didn't reply to that, instead lunging forward with hurricane-force, driving his opponent quickly backwards.  
  
Heero felt like his body was singing with electric current -- every part of him was filled and overflowing with sensation. Sometimes -- like right then -- it was pain, a bright burst of it in his ribcage. But mostly, it felt like too much oxygen. _This_ was what he needed: an escape from all the shit, a good brawl with someone who shared his need for violence.  
  
He tasted blood from a split lip. There'd be a scab from that. Clients didn't like scabs. They liked bruises better, thought they were sexy. But blood... well, fuck them. Not a one of them understood how his insides writhed at the thought of them touching him, how his brain had to essentially go into lock-down in order for him to keep himself from breaking bones when they were near him.  
  
Wufei sent him sprawling once more, but he rolled to his feet before his body came to rest. They stood several paces from each other, again sizing up the opponent.  
  
"Tired?" Wufei bit out.  
  
"No."  
  
They battled back and forth until their breath came in short gasps and blood ran from more than a few scrapes. Heero raked his gaze over Wufei's taught body. He saw the sweat soaking through the tank top, took in the excited flush of his cheeks. Even after fighting for this long, the young man exuded calm and self-assurance. How? The dragon was usually so on edge. As they stood facing each other, his brain raced through possible explanations and how, if possible, he could use them to his advantage. Enough sleep? More meditation? A new exercise regimen? Heero didn't think so. But he could see and feel that he would lose to Wufei. The fighter was just waiting for him to tire; then he'd strike. Heero needed a new tactic. So he turned to that potty-mouthed inner voice that usually turned out to be Duo's. Heero entertained what Maxwell's theory would have been in this situation and the answer was immediately obvious: sex. Wufei had gotten some and had been satisfied by it, despite his abhorrence for his job. Somehow he was satisfied. But who would do that for him?  
  
He thought of the nights he spent with Duo in their room, working into the early morning. His chest ached when he looked over his shoulder to see his best friend's sleeping shape turned away from him, long body curled around a pillow as if it were a lover. And his chest ached a little more when he saw Duo's small frown appearing more often and he saw the time he spent in their room decrease. The ache became sharp and painful when he noticed Duo spending an increasing amount of time with the young man now in front of him, breathing hard, blood dripping from an abrasion on his cheek. Images of Duo rising from the bed to leave their room and see Wufei flickered through his mind and he reached up to clutch at his chest. At this uncharacteristic motion, Heero saw unease flicker through Wufei's dark eyes. Then he embraced the flood of rage and hurt coursing through him, and ugly words fell from his mouth.  
  
Heero thumbed his nose and said, his voice taunting, "New favorite trick, Chang? Does he do something for you in return for what you sell him?" He had the instant satisfaction of seeing Wufei's eyes widen and his entire body go rigid. Heero ruthlessly exploited the dragon's shocked stillness and shoved him to the dojo floor. Black eyes grew even wider as Heero laid his torso and chest flat along the body beneath him, their noses a few centimeters apart. The dragon's breath hitched as Heero kneed muscled legs apart. "Am I going to have to question your integrity?" Black eyes flicked away from his, but Heero followed that gaze and leaned forward, snapping his teeth closed a finger-width from Wufei's lips.  
  
And just like that, the fight was over. Heero rolled to his feet, measuring Wufei's response. The dragon got to his feet much more slowly, refusing to meet Heero's eyes, looking thoroughly shaken. He'd never been one to suffer insults, especially against his honor, but Heero could see that he would not counter this attack. He stood there, looking at the floor, gold skin flushed with some unnameable emotion. Heero felt his heart sink. He may have won the fight, but not through any superior skill of his own. He'd humiliated his partner and only increased his own suspicions about Wufei and Duo's friendship.  
  
"Chang." The young man shook himself and looked up. But still he said nothing. "So, you can dish it out, but you can't take it? Is that it?"  
  
Wufei turned sharply and headed for the door. Heero's eyes narrowed. He wanted to say something, confront the dragon, to confirm or deny his suspicions, but he'd always handled confrontations better with his fists. Words didn't work too well for him. 'Oh, hell,' he thought, taking a few steps toward Wufei's retreating back.  
  
"Chang, wait." Wufei stopped by the door and turned back, putting on his sneakers, looking at Heero expectantly. Heero stopped a few paces from him and crossed his arms over his chest. The sweat was beginning to dry on his skin and he shivered. "Something you want to tell me?" Wufei shook his head and Heero didn't know whether to feel relieved and take him at his word or dig further. 'Oh, hell,' he thought again. "You're not going to fight me? I just insulted your honor."  
  
Wufei's lips pinched in a sour frown. "You didn't insult me. You made a statement about my life. We could both rip each other apart like that, but I don't have any desire to do that, not today." Then he turned and left the dojo, back held straight, fists held down at his sides.  
  
Heero rubbed his arms and scowled, not in the least reassured by Wufei's parting words. "Shit," he muttered before turning back to his clothes.


	23. No Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**23a. Duo**

Tonight we'll dream  
We'll wash our hands of it  
Tomorrow we'll stand  
Tomorrow we'll walk away, walk away.  
_\- Idatel “Sons and Daughters”_  
  
The call came late at night, much like the first, and like the time before, Duo held the phone in numb fingers, brain stuck in a loop. He went over the instructions he'd been given again, knowing he'd heard them correctly, knowing he had to tell his roommate, knowing he had to tell his lover. But he was still unable to lift his hand and open the door to his own bedroom. Finally, he swallowed around the lump in his throat and turned the knob.  
  
+  
  
Heero didn't say much of anything - just sat there in bed, hugging his knees to his chest. Duo knelt beside him, arms resting on Heero's quilt, fingers playing with the seams in the fabric. They didn't look at each other, didn't touch, didn't speak. For several minutes, Duo left it alone, allowed Heero to absorb the information he'd just been given. His best friend's fingers flexed against his knees and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes, but his eyelids twitched, and Duo could see his Adam's apple jump in his throat. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the body that struggled not to betray the anger and torment boiling just below the surface.  
  
"Have you told Wufei?" he finally gritted. Duo shook his head, no.  
  
"Do you want me to?"  
  
Heero opened his eyes and nailed Duo to the floor with a piercing blue gaze. He felt stripped and vulnerable before those steely eyes. For the 1000th time, he wondered just what Heero knew - if he knew about Wufei, how the young dragon pressed him against the bedroom wall and they fucked with clothes on, relying on friction and a burning attraction between them to get themselves off. He wondered if Heero knew how much it hurt that they're growing friendship had been put on hold while he disappeared in his hacking programs. He wondered if Heero could feel the guilt, anger and giddy excitement slamming through his arteries and oozing from his pores. That piercing gaze wasn't talking, though and neither was Heero. Not any more than usual anyway.  
  
"No," he murmured. "If Chang and I have to fuck in front of an audience, I should be the one to tell him." He unwound his lean and wiry frame from its hunched position on the bed, uncoiling with unconscious ease. Duo shivered. He rose and followed Heero to the door of their bedroom.  
  
"Heero," he said, voice soft. "It's not the end of the world. Don't… make it the end of the world."  
  
His best friend's lip curled in a small smirk, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned and strode to Wufei's closed door, entering without knocking or hesitating. Duo flinched as he heard the unmistakable 'snick' of Wufei's switchblade and sharp Mandarin curses.  
  
Across the living room, Trowa appeared at his door, a question in his green eyes. Behind him, a bleary-eyed and tousle-haired Quatre stood shivering in his pajamas. Duo felt his heart ache just a little at the boy's apparent sleepy innocence. He hadn't looked like that in months. Then he jerked his chin toward Wufei's room. The cursing was getting louder. He wished he knew what his lover was saying.  
  
"They're next," was all Duo said, but Trowa's eyes widened in surprised comprehension.  
  
"What?" Quatre asked, rubbing the heel of his hand in his eyes. "Who's next? For what?" Trowa turned around without another word or glance in Duo's direction and gently guided Quatre back inside the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Duo thought about joining Heero in Wufei's room to break up any brawls. But he decided against it; he'd probably only make things worse.  
  
Instead he shut his door and crawled into bed, burying himself in his thick comforter. He hugged himself tightly, and let the pit of fear that had started in his stomach grow until he shook with the force of his apprehension.  
  
The two people he cared for most in the whole world, his dragon lover and his closest friend, were to be shipped off to a private party as the entertainment. They would perform for a group of "friends." "Close personal friends" of the Boss. Nothing fancy. They wouldn't have to touch any of the guests, just do whatever they were told. Right. Duo's dragon lover and his closest friend, the two people he cared about most, were also the two deadliest peopled he'd ever known.  
  
It'd be a massacre.  
  
  
**23b. Heero**

All the damns will give  
At the end, at the end, at the end of the world  
Will you swim for me?  
_-"Catastrophe Keeps Us Together" Rainer Maria_  
  
"Are you _planning_ on killing someone tonight?" Wufei's exasperated voice followed Heero into his bedroom, but he didn't bother to respond. Of course he wasn't planning another person's death. He'd never _planned_ death before -- he didn't count the many gruesome ways he wanted to end Gael's miserable existence -- and the two people he had killed… they were… well, they'd hurt Duo. But that wasn't the point. The point was, no, no plans, only preparation. Serrated blade in his bag, knife in his boot, he returned to the living room. Wufei stood there, hands in fists at his sides, cheeks flushed. "Because I don't think we should plan on killing anyone. It doesn't seem like a wise- "  
  
"I'm not planning on killing anyone."  
  
"Then why are we going in with weapons stashed in clothing we're going to have to remove anyway?"  
  
Duo emerged from the bathroom, face pale and drawn in worry. Grumbling internally, Heero gave in. "Because I want to be ready… I don't want any surprises that we can't handle. I want us to get out of there alive, Chang."  
  
"You think someone's going to-"  
  
"Alive and in one piece. In here mainly." He pointed to his own skull. He watched Duo approach the dragon then gently apply more kohl to the young man's eyelids. Wufei was used to this by now and didn't flinch.  
  
"Heero doesn't much care for crowds, Wu," he explained quietly. "He's just doin' what he needs to do to be comfortable." Wufei snorted. "And I think it's a good idea, too. Have a blade ready. This whole thing smells worse than Ro's favorite fish market." Duo produced a delicate choker; a piece of onyx strung on a black silk cord. Reaching around Wufei's neck, he fumbled with the clasp until it caught. Then he withdrew his hands, pausing a fraction of a second before stepping back. Heero noticed his hesitation and quickly looked away. He recognized that moment immediately for what it was: shared, quiet, intimate. They'd made eye contact, exchanged a look. Heero kept his hands down at his sides and then looked back up when Duo stepped away from the dragon.  
  
Again, Duo had outdone himself with Wufei's appearance: the tilt of his almond eyes accentuated with skillfully applied kohl, his short black hair, soft, shining and wild, his slim body sheathed in black leather. He looked like a whore tonight, but he also looked dangerous. Heero knew the power in that body.  
  
Then his best friend was standing in front of him, violet eyes hooded but focused on trying to smooth down a particularly spirited lock of thick dark hair. "You look like a little kid with your hair sticking up like this. Heero, you've gotta be…" he trailed off, fingers combing steadily.  
  
"I have to be what?" Heero asked softly.  
  
"You're not going to be able to-" Wufei shifted where he stood, subtly drawing attention to the fact that the two friends were not alone, and Heero felt his cheeks grow hot. This was not a conversation for anyone but himself and Duo. He snatched Duo's wrist from the air by his ear and pulled him abruptly and without hesitation into their room. Duo made no sound as Heero closed the door. Then violet eyes met steely blue and didn't flinch. "You're not gonna be able to shut this one out, Ro. They won't let you. Those men… they'll want blood, yours and Wufei's. They want pain and discomfort, humiliation and sacrifice. If they think you're somewhere else for the evening… they'll find a way to bring you back. And that'll involve Wu. And he doesn't need that. He needs you to be there with him the whole time. You're a team and you need to trust each other. Trust him and protect him." Strong hands reached out to run briskly up and down Heero's arms. "Do what they want until you can't… and try not to kill anyone." He took a breath and dropped his arms, crossing them over his chest. "So that's my advice. Please come back okay. Keep Wufei focused on you. Try to forget the others are watching. And don't rise to their insults, of which there will probably be many. Just-" Heero cut off Duo's warnings when he closed the distance between them and grabbed hold of his long rope of hair.  
  
He looked down at the chestnut braid and swallowed. "I will make it better for you. For us," he started. "After tonight, I'm ready. It's finished. And I'll make it better."  
  
Duo smiled at him and Heero felt the ache in his heart ease a bit. "I know you will. I trust you. But right now, just take care of yourself and your partner. Just come home, okay?" Heero slowly wound the braid around his fist, until his hand rested at the back of Duo's neck. He pulled him close until he could lean his forehead against Duo's. Then he closed his eyes and took in a slow breath, pulling Duo's scent into his lungs.  
  
“Wait for me?” Heero whispered. It was a plea that surprised him. He knew Duo was looking at him, confused. Heero himself didn't really know what he meant by that statement either. But before Duo could reply or Heero could think too much about the consequences of his actions, he tilted his chin forward and touched Duo's lips with his own. It was soft and quick and he ended it way before he really wanted to. He turned away swiftly and kept his eyes on the floor, but his insides thrummed with the realization that he'd finally kissed his best friend.  
  
Wufei waited for them in the living room, trying to loosen some of the buckles that held the sides of his shirt together. He looked up when they re-entered, brow creased in frustration. "This looks suspiciously like a corset, Maxwell. And much like that archaic garment, it's restricting my movement and breathing." Duo laughed out loud and Heero cracked a smile.  
  
"It's what the Boss sent for you to wear," Duo said with a shrug. "Take it up with him. But Heero and I both think you look sexy, right Ro?" Heero raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything. "And besides," he added. It's not like you'll be wearing it for long, anyway."  
  
  
**23c. Wufei**  
  
And the lights could go  
At any time, any time, any time, any time  
How will you look for me?  
_\- Rainer Maria_  
  
It was a very nice limousine: spacious, good lighting, fancy drinks, cheese and crackers. Wufei, however, found that he couldn't really appreciate the slick, expensive aesthetic. He couldn't appreciate much of anything at this point, except the solid, reassuring press of his knife in his boot and two more along his spine. He felt like he was going to be sick; he in fact wanted to throw up all over the nice clean upholstery of this nice clean limo. He'd feel better instantly and he'd run a up a large cleaning bill for Gael. But Heero was keeping his cool, so he could too. At least it looked like Heero was cool, but sitting a few centimeters away from him and knowing the fighter's body better than most, Wufei knew the kid was a ticking time bomb, a spring wound so tightly that it threatened to break loose, shredding anyone lucky enough to be close to him with shrapnel.  
  
Wufei couldn't believe that Duo actually thought it was a good idea to come to this thing armed. Wufei thought the idea was suicide, was certain that they'd be searched before they even got there. And if they weren't… hello, they were prostitutes. They weren't going to have clothes in which to conceal a weapon before the evening was out. But Heero had insisted and damnit, so had Duo. And Wufei did feel better knowing he could now take on just about anyone who didn't have a gun. Hell, he'd take on the whole fucking party anyway. He and Heero could fight their way out, striking down the wicked and twisted men who would doubtless be asking for it. It was this image, this vision of potential violence and carnage that kept Wufei from losing it before they even got to the party. That, and the memory of Duo's hand squeezing his in a strong and reassuring grip. It wasn't the embrace of a lover, but of a brother in arms, seeing him off to battle. Wufei realized how absurd it was to think of this job as a battle, of his friend and lover as a fellow soldier… but he wasn't going for accuracy or even reality. His goal was survival; his own and Heero's. They both had to make it out in tact, mentally and physically, because Duo had grabbed Heero's hand in that same grip, pulled their heads together until they touched, hand at the back of Heero's neck. They would both return.  
  
Wufei cast a sideways glance at his partner's stony countenance. He knew almost nothing about this young man's life or how he handled his work. But he knew Heero's emotions as expressed through that dangerous body. Despite his consistent stoicism in the articulated language department, Wufei knew him as an intensely versatile, expressive, and emotional fighter. And even though his official job description required none of that, Heero'd never really been a hustler. He'd been biding his time. And even though they hadn't discussed the fact before they got in the Limo, Wufei knew that Heero was just about at his breaking point. The thought of him actually unleashing the anger and frustration percolating just under his skin made Wufei's fingers tingle.  
  
+  
  
Something was off about this. He could tell by the number of bodyguards, or complete lack thereof. Two in the limo and they stayed in the limo. One at the door. He looked them over as they entered, eyes bouncing off their clothing and away without more than a second glance. Odd. He stayed at the door; didn't escort them in, just pointed up the stares where it was abundantly clear that something was happening behind those closed double doors. Then two Muscle right at the doors. The young men stopped in front of them, looking up expectantly. The Muscle didn't say anything, but gave them the same cursory glance-over.  
  
"So…" Wufei started. He glanced at Heero but received no help there. He looked back up at the bodyguards . "We're here."  
  
"Bathroom's through these doors on the left. You can keep your stuff in there. Or there are shelves under the table inside. That's where I'd suggest you keep it if you want easy access later." The one on the left had spoken, but neither looked at them. He could feel Heero relax infinitesimally next to him and that was good enough. Apparently, they'd just been given permission to keep their weapons within arm's reach. Without another word, the doors opened and they were instantly assaulted by blaring music and strobe lights. The Muscle came in with them and closed the doors once they were all through, now standing guard inside. Wufei glanced at Heero again, looking for some kind of clue as to how to proceed, but the young man was a stone.  
  
'Alright, Yuy. If you're not going to be any help…' Wufei strode forward, glaring around the room with what he hoped was a superior yet sultry stare. Heero instantly followed, eyes sweeping over the room, probably looking for exits. As they approached the middle of the room, the knot of men standing behind what looked to be a large pool table turned and, noticing the arrival of their entertainment, disbursed and came around the table to look them over. One of them turned the music down. Wufei, grateful that it was quiet enough for him to think, now felt his face go red as he realized they expected him to talk.  
  
"Welcome!" one of the men shouted. He was tall and generically handsome, with a shiny pink face. He looked excited. "So glad you boys could come tonight. Gael promised something exotic and beautiful and…" Wufei tried to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "And he wasn't wrong."  
  
Looked like he wouldn't have to talk much. All he needed to do was look exotic, apparently.  
  
"Let me introduce you to all my friends. We're about to become rather intimately acquainted with you both; the least we can do is offer our names."  
  
'That's fine; make it easier for me to track you all down later.' There were only eight men -- a small party. And they only gave him their first names. But Wufei remembered them anyway. Two Michels, two Daniels, Ivan, Carl, Henri and… Ralph. Well, fuck. There he was, in the flesh, the snake who had viciously insulted Duo and forced them to screw in front of him, the slimy gent who had relished Wufei's pain and humiliation. He stood skulking in the shadows at the back of them room, but his pale eyes never left Wufei's face. And he was grinning. The dragon immediately looked away, examining the faces of the other men. But his mind was racing and muscles twitched in anticipation. He'd vowed that night that the next time he saw Ralph, he would pay him back for the horrible things he'd said and the humiliation he'd caused. It looked like their would be blood spilled tonight.  
  
'That's right, Ralph. Get an eyeful. Watch me squirm, yet again. It'll be the last thing you see.'  
  
The man who'd originally spoken to them, one of the Michels, turned back to Wufei. "And you are?" he asked pleasantly.  
  
Jerking himself out of his bloody vision, the dragon let a smile slide across his lips. "My name is Chang. This is Heero." At the mention of his name, Heero ceased his scrutiny of their surroundings and stared down each of the men in the room. An awkward silence fell as they examined each other. Hungry eyes crawled over their faces and bodies. Wufei let them look; he'd been in the business long enough now that it didn't bother him.  
  
Finally, he took a deep breath -- or as much of one as he could with his ribs held tightly in his goddamn costume. He refused to call the thing compressing his chest a shirt. Besides the sleeves came separately; they were attached by zippers. Whatever this piece of leather, metal and bone was, it wasn't a shirt. "So, what's the plan, sirs? Do you have an outline for the evening?" He forced his voice into a lighter tone, ala Duo Maxwell. He didn't think these men wanted Chang Wufei talking to them right now.  
  
Michel #1, apparently the speaker for the bunch, smiled and nodded. "Oh, yes. It's very simple, actually. You two get on that table and do exactly what we want." A couple men chuckled nervously, embarrassed by his forwardness. A couple poked each other in the ribs, their grins wide and malicious. One, Henri, looked downright pissed that he was there at all. It looked like he hadn't been expecting two men when Gael had promised “exotic and beautiful.” Ralph kept his small smile.  
  
And so did Wufei. Heero remained, by all accounts, blank. "Sounds about right," the dragon said lightly, voice lined with steel.  
  
+  
  
They stood stiffly on the table, fists clenched. The music was cranked again, shouts of 'dance for us!' falling around their feet. Wufei held Heero's gaze, black into dark blue, demanding his attention. Heero stayed still, body radiating tension. Sensing the impatience of the men around them, Wufei let his hips begin to move in time with the music as he stepped toward his partner.  
  
"Come on, Yuy," he mouthed, knowing Heero could read his lips. The young man shook his head almost imperceptibly in response. Wufei came closer. "What's wrong?" he said silently. Heero almost smirked, mouth twitching slightly, eyes darting around the room. An obvious answer. Now Wufei stood directly in front of him. "Just move." He leaned in and put one arm around Heero's waist, draping the other over his partner's shoulder. Hard muscles jumped underneath the thick material of his fitted jacket. Wufei wondered in a brief flash of jealousy, why Heero didn't have to wear a bone-bruising corset. At least he could get his hands underneath the elaborate layers of fabric and buckles. When the dragon's hands touched that hot skin, he felt muscles jump again and he looked up into panic-filled blue eyes. "Heero," he mouthed. Another shake of his head. Wufei ran his fingers along sharp ribs padded with muscle, traced hip bones and the soft fuzz running from belly button to waistline. "You have to trust me." He said this aloud into Heero's ear. He jumped when he heard teeth grinding. Steel bands masquerading as fingers wrapped around his bicep in a bruising grip.  
  
"I can't do that," came the strained reply. Both their bodies were moving in time to the generic, pulsing beat, hands roaming over leather, buckles, zippers and skin. Wufei didn't think their audience knew anything was up, but they wouldn't stay quiet for long if this was all their entertainment planned on doing.  
  
"Why not?" Wufei hissed back.  
  
"I- can't explain."  
  
"Take his clothes off, Chang!" one of them shouted.  
  
'Here we go,' he thought.  
  
"Skin!" Heero could not hide his shudder. Wufei slid one hand up and down Heero's waist, the other fingering one of the buckles. "Is this okay?" He easily slid it open, having practiced for awhile at home. At Duo's behest. He'd have to thank him later for that bit of advice. The last thing he needed was long minutes spent awkwardly fiddling with buttons, zippers and buckles.  
  
Heero nodded his consent, a sharp motion. His fingers tentatively rested on Wufei's hip. He altered his posture slightly so his pelvis arched outward and toward his partner.  
  
'Okay. This could work. Just keep it together, Heero.' The beat throbbed and thudded in their heads and through their bones. Wufei found that it sort of soothed him and he let himself relax a bit. He watched Heero move with him and admired how easily the fighter's body could go from violence to something pulsing and seductive. But his movements were still utterly focused and controlled. Wufei would be more easily seduced by the violence this body was capable of. Dancing would never be the way he'd choose to express his body's abilities.  
  
But he had to admit that the feel of his volatile partner's skin under his fingers was exciting; he felt like he was getting away with something dangerous. When they fought, they were actively trying to bruise and break skin. Now, as Wufei finally succeeded in ridding his partner of his complicated shirt, he enjoyed the pause he took to actually admire the defined muscle sliding beneath dark skin. Heero was not perfect. His chest and back and shoulders were marked with the shallow pail scars Cecile had given him over the last two years… and he had a knife wound above his hip bone…and tattoos, the very same tattoos he'd glimpsed on Duo's back the few times they'd had the opportunity to remove clothing during one of their 'outings' around the city. They had the same tattoo. A small piece of their past fell into place and Wufei marveled at the kind of friendship they possessed that they would have it branded on their skin. How had he not noticed these before? They'd sparred shirtless in the past. Had he never gotten a good look at Heero's back? Well, regardless, he could see well enough now. He traced the tattoos with his fingers -- tiny lines in sets of two on either side of his spine. They ran like road markings up and down his back bone, splitting at his shoulder blades and curling around the base of the bone. They disappeared into his pants.  
  
Heero shivered at his touch and spun back around, reaching around Wufei to place his hand at the small of his back and pull them together. "Nice ink," Wufei murmured in his ear.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Wufei brought his mouth down to his partner's neck and licked the tender skin above his collar bone. "Is this okay?" He murmured. Heero shivered and again clenched his jaw.  
  
"Okay enough."  
  
Wufei was quickly losing patience. "What is okay, then, Yuy? Because it will get a lot worse than this before the night's out." Wufei hadn't meant to snap at his partner, but honestly what was his deal? This wasn't his first job by a long stretch.  
  
"Chang-- I can't do it this way."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"I can't-- talk. I just have to do it. I can't-"  
  
"Do what you need to, Yuy. We both just need to survive tonight. This isn't time for bonding." Heero grunted a response and returned to the task of undoing the laces and buckles keeping Wufei's 'shirt' together. The dragon tried to keep his scowl from reaching his mouth and ruining his attempt at a seductive expression. But as he watched Heero's fingers fumble with the corset, he realized he was pissed. And a little hurt. They were stuck here; why not make the best of it?  
  
If there was one thing Duo had taught him, it was take what you can from your work. Make it so at least you don't hate yourself when it's over. Over the past months, Wufei had taken this advice to heart. Rather than his tricks humiliating him with their demands -- and some of them were more than pushy -- he looked at the job as a challenge: try to make this man feel good even if he's a homophobic asshole ashamed of the fact that he likes to fuck men. Or, if he had to work with a picnic like Heero Yuy, take comfort in the safety and familiarity of his body. Heero would not try to humiliated him or judge him. Wufei thought that Duo would have imparted that bit of wisdom to his best friend, but Heero showed no signs that he had. Well, he was a stubborn bastard. Maybe he'd chosen not to listen and continue doing this his own way; whatever that was.  
  
While Heero unlaced the corset, Wufei undid the zippers holding the sleeves to the body of his 'shirt.' Bringing his arms together over Heero's head, he grabbed the cuff and pulled, sliding the leather down his arm. He tossed it on the floor next to Heero's bag. He'd practiced this move for Duo, too, he recalled with a faint blush. Then he unzipped the other sleeve, smirking when several men whistled. He cast his eyes over his audience. They looked happy, eyes glued to his arms and shoulders and also to Heero's lean chest, stomach and back. Ralph stood back, eyes never leaving Wufei's face. Henri still looked pissed and offended. They'd have to be careful with him.  
  
Wufei turned his gaze back to his partner, watched the fingers methodically loosening and tugging. 'Come on, Yuy. Grow some originality.' The dragon grabbed Heero's wrists and wrapped them around his own waist, bring their bodies flush against each other. Arms automatically began to roam up and down his back. Wufei ran his fingers along Heero's spine, feeling the slightly raised tracks of the tattoos. Their hips met and Wufei pushed aggressively into his partner, forcing him to step back. "At least try to have a little fun," he growled. He lightly bit down on the young man's throat, waiting for the flinch and unhappy grunt. When none came, he drew back a little and sought Heero's eyes.  
  
What he saw froze his breath and made his heart lurch. His partner was gone… just blank. His expressive blue eyes had turned to gunmetal. His body only reacted or performed the most automatic and reflexive tasks.  
  
"Yuy." He searched the empty features and found nothing. His body moved to the beat, bending and twisting along to the music. Hands touched him, ran along his biceps, but they always strayed back to the damn corset laces. A knot of panic formed in his stomach. This was wrong. "Heero?" No response. Not even a blink in that vacuous stare. This was how Heero dealt with the job? Disappearing? Wufei took a deep breath. He let Heero lift the corset over his head, carefully pulling the knife strap along with it. The bundle of leather, bone and metal clattered to the floor along with everything else. He took another deep breath, relishing the freedom of movement he'd been denied in that damn costume. The two young men drew together again, arms winding around each other, tongues tasting shoulders and necks. Heero essentially imitated everything Wufei did, conscious enough to be aware, but totally non-responsive to any of his advances. He was like a stranger.  
  
And the johns knew something was up.  
  
"What's his deal?" "He too good for you, Chang?" Givin' you the cold shoulder?" "Cold fish more like." "He needs to wake up. Wake him up, Chang." "I'll wake him up." "Get his pants off That'll get him into it."  
  
Wufei felt the ugliness of the mood growing. He started to undo the fly of Heero's jeans, desperately trying to make it all look real. But any enjoyment, amusement, or arousal to be found in the situation had gone along with Heero's presence in the act. His dangerous body held nothing in it.  
  
Wufei dropped to his knees, looking up at his partner's still form and vacant stare. Swallowing hard, he grabbed the waistband of Heero's jeans and pulled downward exposing his partner and friend to the admiring stares of the audience. But their satisfaction was short-lived.  
  
"He's not even hard!" "What's his deal?" "You should just ditch that kid, Chang. We'll take care of you."  
  
He shivered under their words and stares. The thought of all eight of them, especially Ralph, touching him made his stomach churn. Not going to happen. Not tonight, not here. Tonight, there would be blood, none of it his or Heero's, all of it cleansing. He set his jaw in determination and went to work.


	24. No Looking Back II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**24a. Duo**

Catastrophe keeps us together   
We're the architects of the world   
We're taking it all apart  
_-Rainer Maria_  
  
Duo paced his room, fiddling with the end of his braid. He'd tried reading, tried drawing, tried sleeping, eating and bugging Trowa. None of the above had worked.   
  
And Quatre was out on a job. He was out hunting tonight. So much for innocence. So much for a future. The kid was a bounty hunter. And he'd killed. Duo could smell it on him. Sometimes, it wasn't just a bounty head he was after; sometimes it was a life. Duo's heart ached for both Quatre and Trowa. Their time together had been so short. Hell, they could all be dead by morning, Gael no longer in need of their services. But... it was still hard for the kid, who'd so recently taken a turn for the dark and sinister.  
  
Speaking of dark and sinister... Duo remembered he was supposed to be pacing and returned to it, his best friend and his lover once again filling his mind. Heero and Wufei working together, touching, kissing, having sex. Leather, stripping, knives. _Goddamn_ they had all the fun! For about the 30th time that night, Duo examined his emotions, searching his guts for the guilt and envy he knew he should be feeling. Wufei and Heero, the two people who meant the most to him; they were together right now. Duo knew that Wufei worried about them being found out, about Heero finding out specifically. And true, Duo didn't know how the normally stoic man would react to the knowledge that his best friend and his flat mate were sneaking off to snog in closets and bathrooms. But assuming he didn't get violent or all quiet, never talking to either of them again, Duo didn't see the downside of Heero knowing. Though he _was_ making some pretty powerful assumptions.   
  
Well, and then Heero had kissed him, right on the mouth, right in their room, with Wufei right on the other side of the doorway, waiting for them. That was a pretty clear indication that he wanted something more from Duo than just a best friend. That had been a surprise. Duo had been too shocked to do anything, let alone kiss him back. They'd known each other most of their lives, but they'd never touched in _that_ way. Didn't mean they hadn't wanted to – for the last couple years, Duo could sometimes cut the tension between them with his switchblade – but there was just never any way to tell what Heero really wanted. There were a few times when Duo felt sure that they were on to something, that if he had just made a move, he and Heero might have...   
  
He snorted and scrubbed a hand over his face. Might have, what exactly? Become boyfriends? Duo hated that word. And he didn't think that either he or Heero were in the right situation to start anything, not with Gael breathing down Heero's neck and sending all the roughest, meanest johns Duo's way. Duo was pretty sure that Gael would not have allowed them to be together, even if they'd wanted to be. Duo didn't think it would have been safe for them to try it.   
  
And now, with Wufei very much in the picture, things were complicated even more. Duo did feel guilty that he and Wufei were sneaking around together, that Heero was still mostly in the dark about it, but he couldn't feel guilty about the fact that he'd found something good with Wufei. And perhaps he longed for Heero to know. The thought of Heero... with them, safe and away from his dangerous escape scheme – it made Duo's heart ache with longing. It made him want ... something he rarely did. The thought of them together made him smile. They would be unbreakable, stronger than they could have ever been on their own.  
  
He realized he was getting ahead of himself, thinking this way. It wasn't like everything would be perfect right away. He wasn't sure Heero and Wufei even liked each other. And he made a fierce effort to smother the niggling worry that he was being selfish, grasping desperately for someone to hold close. Perhaps he couldn't have both; perhaps he only wanted them both because he'd so rarely received anything in his short, brutal life without a struggle. But Duo knew he was more than willing to fight tooth and nail for both his friends. They'd be worth it, whether or not he was being selfish.   
  
He told himself that he just wanted them home safe. That was all. Gah! He was forgetting to pace again.  
  
  
**24b. Wufei**  
  
And the bridges will burn   
At the end, at the end, at the end of the world   
How will we cross the seas?  
And the plans have got to hold   
A destination we can rely on for sure  
I want you to find me.  
_\- Rainer Maria_  
  
Wufei felt their hands on him and knew that he had failed his partner. Heero had fled a long time ago, trusting Wufei to carry him through the job. And he'd tried. Shit, he was almost glad Heero wasn't really around to see how hard he'd tried to keep their clients satisfied. The things he'd done... without Heero even really knowing... it felt wrong. But none of it was good enough without Heero's participation. Maybe some of his johns didn't mind fucking a block of wood, but Wufei needed a little more input. And, clearly, so did these men.  
  
And now they were all touching him, beckoning him away from the table where he sat above Heero's naked body. They wanted him for themselves and while he didn't care quite as much as he would have not so long ago, Wufei would not allow them to have him. Besides, that would mean leaving his partner -- also unacceptable. So, he straddled Heero's thighs, looked down at the prone figure of his friend, and tried not to panic.   
  
He slid down along the hard, smooth plains of that body until they lay flush against each other. He kept up the friction on his groin almost automatically. The last thing he needed was for one or the other to go soft. Laying his head in the space between neck and shoulder, Wufei spoke directly into his partner's ear, keeping one eye on the men clustered around them.   
  
"Heero. I know you can hear me. Listen up." He felt foreign hands on his ass and suppressed a shudder. "This isn't working. I can't do this by myself. You have to wake up. They're not happy, and they'll take it out on me. I don't want them to touch me. We were supposed to have each other tonight, Heero, not them. It was just supposed to be us, but now it's just me and..." He trailed off, feeling muscles twitch beneath him. Looking into slate-colored eyes, he felt his stomach jump. There was something there, some flicker of comprehension. Without further thought, he leaned forward and kissed slightly chapped lips. He ran his tongue along sharp teeth and bit Heero's lower lip -- bit down until he felt a soft grunt deep in his partner's chest. 'Come on Heero. Don't let them have me. I can't kill Ralph with you catatonic on the table over here.' He opened his eyes and pulled back from the kiss to see fiery blue irises burning into him, flickering in anger and fear. The stared at each other, Wufei almost weak with relief. "Hey," he said finally. "Where'd you go?"  
  
Heero grunted again and squirmed beneath him. Then he gasped, eyes flying wide, the friction between them surprising him. Every muscle tensed and Wufei was sure he had a fist headed for his face any second. The look in dark blue eyes held violence. "Chang!" he snapped.  
  
Wufei snapped right back. "What. We don't have time for talking. And I don't have time for another fucking disappearing act."  
  
"Fuck y-"  
  
"You have to be here with me, for this, Yuy. We have to do this now, or they will take me instead. And that's not an option for me, so suck it up, or get over it or whatever you need to do."  
  
Heero shuddered at his partner's words. "I can't. I'm sorry. I'd-"  
  
"You'd what," Wufei bit out, patience long gone.  
  
"I'd- I might-"  
  
"Run away again? That's a neat trick. But it doesn't work when I'm partnered with you. You left me alone with these men! I've been dicking around with a hunk of meat for the last however long."  
  
"I can't do this with you because I might hurt you," he confessed voice anguished.   
  
Wufei stopped mid-breath. What? "Yuy -- you're afraid you'll hurt me? _Me?!"_  
  
"Yes... I can't always control my reflexes. I-"  
  
"We beat the shit out of each other on a regular basis! I still have bruises from last time."  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
Suddenly voices erupted around them, several pairs of hands grabbed Wufei by the waist and shoulders, lifting him off the table and setting him on the floor. He shouted his surprise and anger, quickly twisting out of their grip, keeping his back to the table.  
  
Henri grabbed for him again. "Enough talk," the big man snarled. "If I have to stand around with these fucks all night, you'd better at least be doin' something interesting. And if you can't do that much, I'll do it for you."  
  
Wufei stood his ground, stark naked, but proud. Behind him, he knew Heero had risen to a crouch, ready to spring.  
  
"We've been watchin' you two all night and far as I can see you're the only one worth having. So I say we just take you. And I'm since I'm sayin' it, I get you first. And we do it my way."  
  
Wufei saw it coming and steeled himself for the blow. He let it fall, let his body bend and absorb the shock of Henri's fist. Let them believe what they wanted about him for now. They would soon know different. He staggered backward into the table, catching himself easily. He was surprised to feel Heero's palm on his spine, steadying him. Then the hand disappeared and a blur of dark skin rushed past him. Henri was now on the ground. A second later, Wufei was shoved violently into the wall, head cracking sharply. Before he could clear his brain, Heero Yuy was crushing him in a brutal embrace. Hips ground into his, hard lips covered his own and frighteningly strong fingers kneaded his back muscles. Head spinning, Wufei opened his eyes to meet Heero's thunderous gaze.  
  
"I might..."  
  
"What, hurt me?" Wufei preempted a bit breathlessly. "Just try it."  
  
Heero scowled. "Let's do this quick and go home."  
  
"Gotta get me on my back first," he sneered.  
  
Heero actually smirked. Then his eyes almost rolled back in his head as Wufei bucked his hips against his immovable body. "I like you up against the wall," he managed to grind out before taking Wufei's mouth in another bruising kiss.  
  
**  
24c. Heero and Wufei**  
  
You'll be given love  
You'll be taken care of   
You'll be given blood   
You'll have to trust it  
_\- "All is Full of Love" Bjork_  
  
This was good, Heero decided. Painful but good. He didn't think he could manage any sentences larger than that. Wufei's body was hard but flexible in his hands. His muscles slid beneath coppery skin, skin that was getting increasingly hard to hold onto as they began to sweat. Wufei's breath was harsh but controlled; his pulse hammered against the delicate skin of his throat. Heero liked to watch that small fluttering of skin, liked that it was indicative of Wufei's pleasure. He liked to taste that skin, bite it.  
  
This was all very new to him. He'd had sex with hundreds of nameless, faceless men and, apart from the first few painful encounters, he'd successfully been able to block out every subsequent job. As soon as he sat down in that chair or laid down on that bed or leaned against that wall, he'd taken a walk through his brain and locked himself in the furthest, most remote corner. He'd stayed there until his body or the other's succumbed to friction and heat and released. Then he'd emerge, squinting like he'd just come from a dark cell.   
  
Until today, until this moment, that was how he'd dealt with his job: run, hide, escape, sleep. Wake me when it's over. But this was different; this was new. This was immediate and raw and feral and hot, and fuck, it felt good. He pushed Wufei up against a wall, into the corner, the dragon's legs wrapped around his waist, belly to belly, chest to chest. Their eyes were locked, had been since their bodies first drew together in this fierce and brutal struggle. Wufei's black eyes were challenging him, daring him to take him. Infuriating arrogance and confidence merged with naked want. Wufei _wanted_. And Heero had never wanted so much in all his twenty years of life. Yes, he wanted Duo; he loved Duo. But he didn't know how to want him, didn't know what was required of him. But this... this wanting he could understand because it came unbidden from his body. It made him move and bend and arch and moan and...  
  
It was good. Painful, but good. Wufei didn't think he could manage any sentences longer than that. Heero was very very good at manipulating his partner's body, though Wufei got the feeling that this was the first time he'd ever consciously done it. He was hesitant at first, afraid of causing injury, but then he let that weapon of a body guide him and now Wufei didn't think he could take much more of this friction and sweat and skin without something... a little more solid to work with. He wanted Heero, _wanted_ him, wanted to feel him inside as well as out.  
  
"Are you gonna do it, Yuy?" he asked harshly, voice a blatant challenge.  
  
"Are you ready?" came the breathless reply.  
  
"Yes. Hurry up."  
  
As soon as these words left his lips, Heero pressed him further and harder into the corner. Wufei threw one arm up against the wall, bracing himself as Heero pushed his way inside. Their bodies met and separated in a quick and jagged rhythm. Wufei surged outward, body arched, mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure and pain. Black blotches invaded his vision as Heero pounded into him. His partner held him up easily. Though they'd never done this before, the extensive time they'd spent sparring had pretty much been preparing them for a violent fuck against a wall.   
  
The sounds of men shouting and jeering and encouraging them never made it to their ears. They felt reason and awareness slip.   
  
It had never been like this before, never felt like this... anger/lust, pain/pleasure, frustration/ release, fear/excitement. They all fused together until Wufei felt blind and deaf. His world consisted only of heat, burning, and light. A tremendous pressure coiled in his gut and he groaned into Heero's mouth.  
  
Heero felt his partner's lips move, vibrating with a moan he couldn't hear. He broke the kiss and felt Wufei's chest expand in a desperate gasp for air, head thrown back. He thrust hard, forcibly pushing that gasp back out, crushing him against the wall, biting down on his neck. His partner's body was impossibly taught. Heero didn't think they could possibly last at this rate. He slid his hand between their joined bodies and wrapped slick fingers around Wufei's erection, going on instinct, knowing that was what he'd want if he were in Wufei's position.   
  
The dragon's body jerked in his arms and he cursed in Heero's ear. Heero moved his hand steadily, all the while keeping up their punishing rhythm. Finally, Wufei sucked in a sharp breath, crying out his release a moment later, hips thrust upward, hands gripping dark skin with bruising force. Heero leaned back slightly, watching his partner, letting the dragon's obvious pleasure fuel his own. He felt pride and satisfaction twine together with passion as his vision suddenly went white.  
  
Wufei met fierce blue eyes and saw only a sliver of color, eyelids sliding shut a moment before his body went tight. Heero's voice was strangled and raw, caught in his throat, unused to vocalizing pleasure. Wufei couldn't imagine a sexier sound.  
  
Exhausted and utterly satisfied, they collapsed to the floor, a tangle of sweaty limbs.  
  
  
**24d. Wufei**  
  
Catastrophe keeps us together   
We're the architects of the world   
And we're taking it all apart   
Do you think we can go on forever   
When the architects of the war  
Are handing out the swords   
But I've got a plan  
I'm gonna find you; I'm gonna find you   
At the end of the world  
_\- Rainer Maria_  
  
Wufei sat there for several seconds until he felt he could lift his eyelids, then looked up to see lean arms and a strong chest shielding him from the rest of the room. The body which had so recently been fucking him through the wall now curled protectively over him. Not sure yet how he felt about that, Wufei decided instead to focus on the bleeding bite mark at his neck. He touched ragged skin and smirked up at his partner. "That was my move, Yuy," he murmured, still a bit out of breath. Midnight blue eyes met onyx and, tentatively, long fingers reached out to swipe a lock of sweaty black hair from the dragon's forehead.   
  
Heero's mouth quirked upward. "You'll live." Those fingers traced his jaw and the curve of his neck, then traveled along his collarbone and came to rest on his bicep. "Unless you don't make it getting us out of here."   
  
It was a blatant challenge and Wufei felt the dregs of his post-orgasm haze clear out at the thought of a fight. The dragon nodded once and Heero's grip on his arm tightened as he hauled him to his feet. Then they turned to face their audience, both starting a bit when they saw how close the men had drawn around them. Heero took a half-step forward, placing himself partially in front of his partner. Wufei noticed the probably subconscious protective gesture and chose not to be annoyed. Sex played merry havoc with relationships, especially between friends. Wufei suspected Heero didn't yet know this and wasn't even aware that his attitude towards his partner had changed. But Wufei knew; he'd seen it in the way Heero had touched him, the uncharacteristic tenderness, the hesitance. Everything was different now. But now was not the time to reflect on his and Heero's evolving relationship.   
  
Backed up against the wall, they took stock of the situation. The Michels and Daniels stood up front, wide eyes closely examining the lean bodies before them. Henri stood in the back with Ralph, talking quietly. The other two made no attempt to disguise their lust.   
  
The two Muscle at the door exchanged a glance, looked significantly at Wufei and Heero, then left the room. Now, alone with their customers, the partners drew closer together.  
  
"What now?" Wufei murmured.  
  
"I've got an idea," Henri called from the back, as though he'd heard. "I think it's our turn. Nobody here to watch out for you now. We each get a turn with you until time's up." A chorus of approval roared around them, and Wufei's blood ran cold.  
  
"That wasn't part of the-"  
  
They were both seized and dragged forward. Wufei lost sight of his partner almost immediately, darkly tanned skin disappearing amidst dress shirts and ties. But Wufei didn't worry yet. He found himself back at the table, four men lifting him up and tossing on the felted surface. The original Michel, the talker, grinned down at him, running his palm down Wufei's chest. He kept perfectly still. Then Ralph stepped forward, a familiar serpentine smile curling his lips. Long fingers reached out to gently touch Wufei's hair, smooth it off his forehead.   
  
"You cut your hair, Fei. Such a shame. I did like it long."   
  
The dragon cringed at the shortened version of his name -- he'd always hated it. Coming from Ralph's lips, it sounded vulgar and tainted. It threw him back to that night with Duo -- Ralph watching them from his armchair, dispensing instructions, ordering them to fuck, insulting Duo up and down. "Teach him to be a better whore, Duo. He's not like you, Duo; he's clean."  
  
Wufei's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Some time soon he needed to make a choice. Would he allow these men to touch him when they knew it was in violation of contract for that night? Heero and he were not supposed to interact with these men; they were supposed to stay on the table and perform. That was it. Or would he let his body react the way it desperately wanted to? Would he keep to his promise of retribution and take Ralph out of his and Duo's lives for good?  
  
Ralph ran his fingers along Wufei's ribs, not touching him, but only just. "I've been looking forward to seeing you again, Fei. And at such an interesting function. This really is a treat."   
  
Michel climbed up onto the table, straddling the dragon's legs, eyes and hands roaming over his body. But Wufei's eyes stayed locked with Ralph's.   
  
"Will you be joining in this time, or do you just plan to watch?" he asked icily.   
  
The man's smile broadened and he pulled his hands back, showing Wufei his palms. "I'll just be enjoying the show. You know me."  
  
"Yes, I do," he murmured, redirecting his attention to the man sitting astride him, watching with mild interest as he began to remove shirt and tie. Wufei allowed himself a moment of wishful thought, wishing that tonight, Michel was the least of his worries. The guy was a yuppie, no doubt about it, but he had a nice body and more than enough enthusiasm. If Wufei were getting paid to only entertain him for the evening, they could probably have a pretty good time. Sadly, that wasn't the case. As Ralph faded into the background again, the dragon trained his senses on him. Whatever was happening on this table, he wanted to know where Ralph was.  
  
He felt Michel's hands on him and his body jerked. His eyes snapped back to the man leaning over him and he tensed as what Henri said earlier finally registered. All of these men were going to take turns with him, and since he and Heero had already... well, he wasn't really in a position to top at this point. For the next few hours, he was theirs and that meant Heero was also...   
  
He tried to ignore the fact that Michel was pawing at him and making embarrassing noises and craned his head around to find his partner. It didn't take long. Their clients clustered around him so closely that Wufei had a hard time seeing, but he was quickly able to spot naked brown skin amongst them. He saw them pushing and pulling, saw his partner's body bent over the back of an armchair, and felt panic rise in his throat. Heero couldn't run from this; he couldn't escape into his own head with so many people around him. It wasn't safe. He saw his partner's hand reach out from between someone's legs and clutch the arm of the chair, knuckles white, muscles twitching. This was wrong. Heero wouldn't know... he couldn't deal with something like this. He shouldn't have to.   
  
Then he heard it, a sound that sent a ribbon of shocked fear up his spine. It was a small noise, one that he shouldn't have been able to hear over the music, but Wufei was straining, all his senses focused on his partner and he caught it: a panicked sob, the sound of a frightened child. Heero was afraid.   
  
Wufei made his choice quickly and without hesitation. Heero shouldn't be afraid; he had to fix this. Quicker than Michel could see, Wufei grabbed the man's discarded dress shirt and had him tied up in it before anything more than surprise could register. Then he was off the table and rooting through clothing and duffle bags. He retrieved his two daggers and grabbed Heero's serrated blade, then leapt back up on the table, Henri and Ralph quickly backing off, the third man staring blankly, mouth open.  
  
Wufei heard the sound again and his fiery temper ignited. "Heero!" he shouted over the music and over the voices of the men surrounding his partner. He surprised himself, using Heero's first name. No time to dwell on it, though. "We're ending this now, Heero." The men surrounding his partner all froze and Wufei smirked. He imagined it was because the young man they'd been torturing was no longer a scared boy. He imagined narrowed blue eyes and a body that was really a weapon. Then he didn't have to imagine it anymore as his partner shot through the cluster of men, a blur of lethal muscle. Wufei handed off Heero's blade and turned to seek out Ralph. But Heero grabbed his wrist.   
  
"What are you doing? We should get out of here."  
  
"I have to take care of something. It won't take long." The dragon quickly glanced up and down his partner's body. "Don't let them touch you."  
  
Then he jerked his wrist free and turned to see Ralph still smiling at him, hands in his pockets. With the gray-haired man in his sights, he almost missed the blur of motion coming up from behind and he turned at the last moment, jamming the heal of his hand into the meat of Henri's neck. The man dropped and Wufei turned back to his prey only to find the barrel of a long pistol pointed between his eyes. Ralph was smiling and twitching an admonishing finger.   
  
"Careful, Fei. You don't know who you're dealing with."  
  
"The doors are locked from the outside!" One of the Daniels was shouting and pulling on the door knob, panic rising in his voice.   
  
Wufei's eyes darted to his partner across the room. What did that mean for them? Heero twitched an eyebrow upward and glanced toward the windows. Should they run?   
  
The dragon turned back to Ralph. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with, but I don't think you do." He let a small smile slide across his mouth. "I think you work for Gael, just like me. I think Henri, here," he nudged the unconscious man with his foot, "is your Muscle. The two of you are a team. What you do for the Family, I don't know -- private contractors maybe." Ralph's eyes dropped to the knives that were slowly approaching. "I could ask what you do, but I don't really care. I think the more important question is what on earth did _you_ do to wind up in a room with people like Heero Yuy and me? -- a room that now appears to be locked from the outside." Ralph's refined features drew down in a frown. But he didn't look intimidated. "I'm waiting, Ralph, though I won't wait lo-"  
  
He was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of "gun leaving holster" and he turned reflexively to see the score. He nearly dropped his own weapons. They all had guns, every one of them, except Michel who was still tied up on the table. Heero was ducked behind the armchair, looking rather startled but unafraid. What the- who were these men that they were all armed at a stripper party? And how had he not noticed that they were all packing? Then Wufei carefully reminded himself where he was and who he worked for and it all became clear. A private party for some of Gael's "closest" friends. Very few Muscle watching over the whole thing. Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei the entertainment, two young men who Gael _knew_ were uncomfortable with and resentful of their jobs. The Muscle leaves half-way through the evening, allowing these clients, who were all apparently armed, free reign over what went on for the remainder. Or, the Muscle leaves half-way through the evening, allowing the _hustlers_ , who were both more fighter than anything else, free reign over what went on for the remainder. Wufei guessed that Gael could have been looking for either outcome, but the dragon knew which one he preferred.   
  
The fraction of a second it took Wufei to line up these facts cost him. Henri, having regained consciousness rather quickly, was on his feet in a flash and wrestling the dragon to the ground. He went down hard, but not before he managed to firmly lodge one of his knives between the big man's shoulder bones. His attacker grunted in pain, but still managed to keep Wufei underneath him, face against coarse carpet, arms awkwardly pinned behind him. Wufei felt his other knife twisted from his fingers and then the man's full weight was on him, crushing him into the carpet.  
  
"Chang!" That was Heero calling his name and he sounded far away. He couldn't see anything and his ears were... he was being smothered. His ribs creaked under Henri's considerable bulk and he couldn't breathe in. "Chang!" he heard it again and then gunshots shattered the tense silence. Wufei flinched and then set all of his concentration on getting out from underneath this man. He bucked and writhed, snarling and snapping, the image of Heero shot and bleeding on the floor driving his frantic movements.   
  
Henri began to whisper to him, soft voice taunting and vile, body pressing more insistently against him. He felt lips on the back of his neck and jerked his head backwards, skull connecting with Henri's nose. He took in a few shallow breaths for those few moments while Henri cursed him and then everything went dark again, close and warm and foul. He shouted with all his might and was startled again to find that "Heero!" was what came out. But his voice was loud in his ears and nowhere else, Henri's weight muffling it all. He went very still and waited, trying to feel out what his attacker would do next. He could feel that the man was hard, pushing his erection against his backside. He'd learned to not be disgusted by such things long ago and managed to keep his cool as his air got thicker and heavier. He grew lightheaded and was suddenly exhausted, his body heavy and leaden. But his fingers finally wriggled into the right spot and he felt the man's erection slide into his palm through the rough denim. He grit his teeth and squeezed as hard as his oxygen starved muscles would allow. He twisted and pulled and Henri roared over him, rearing back and releasing his arms. Wufei pulled himself into a tight ball and barely avoided the fist aimed at his temple, catching it instead on his collarbone. The force of it rolled him over and he lay gasping for breath, dazed. He heard a strange gurgling noise and opened his eyes to see Heero's blade standing out of the man's neck. He looked down at himself and realized he'd been sprayed, bright red flecks speckling his chest and face. Then Heero's hands were under his arms, dragging him out from beneath Henri's legs. He coughed and his lungs filled with clean cool air.  
  
They hid in the shelter of the table, Wufei on hands and knees, filling his aching lungs. Heero knelt beside him, palm resting on his spine. "They went crazy," he murmured. "It's like they knew something might happen. They tried to shoot through the door, but it must be reinforced. It wouldn't budge. And then they started shooting each other."  
  
"Are you injured?" Wufei wheezed. He glanced up and then swore softly. Heero held his hand to his face, his cheek torn open where a bullet had grazed the bone.   
  
"It's not bad," Heero muttered. "Trowa can stitch it up."  
  
Wufei nodded and leaned back on his heals. He held his knife close against his chest. "How many are left?"  
  
"Three." The young man paused. "I killed one of them, the one who shot me. ...And I got his gun." Wufei noticed the small handgun laying on the floor beside him, and he shuddered. Distasteful, cowardly instrument of death. But it would definitely aid in their getting out alive. "And the man hurting you..."  
  
"Yes, he's very dead now. ...Thank you for helping me." He scanned the side of the room he could see. "Heero, where's Ralph? Is he one of the dead?"  
  
A quick twitch of his head, no. "He was hit, but I don't think it was fatal. He went down." Heero jerked his chin in the direction of several chairs and a bookcase in the corner. "Over there. They all just started shooting, everyone... the man you tied up on the table; he was just in the way. They killed him." Wufei could feel that they were both slipping. Blood dripped between Heero's fingers and landed on his thigh, making him jump. They were probably both in mild shock. Another gun shot cracked through the air and they hit the floor, instinctively presenting as small a target as possible.   
  
"Heero, how are we going to get out of here? Ralph may be down but there are still two other crazies shooting at each other."  
  
"The window. It's broken. But we can't get to it, and we need clothes. It's freezing outside."  
  
Wufei nodded. "Okay. I'll find Ralph, see if he is still alive, then we take out the other two. But we don't shoot to kill, okay? There are enough dead people here already." Heero swallowed and nodded back. "Okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay. I'll be back." Then, before he had time to think about how stupid an idea it was, he crawled away from the small shelter of the table and slid along the floor toward the corner Heero had indicated. The music still thudded through the speakers; the lights still flickered in what was supposed to be a seductive and sensual rhythm. But the air held a heavy haze. Gun smoke. Everyone must be close to out of bullets. The air was filled with _gun_ _smoke_.   
  
He made it around the low table and between two chairs and found Ralph on his side, bleeding from a gut shot. His long fingers and wide palms -- hands that Wufei remembered gripping the arms of a richly upholstered chair -- were stained red, fallen away from the ugly wound in his stomach. His body -- a sinewy form slouched casually at a safe distance, watching him, always watching -- was hunched and curled around the injury. It was most definitely fatal. His refined features -- a face Wufei remembered lit up with vindictive pleasure at the dragon's discomfort and pain, a mouth that spewed poisonous words at his partner and lover -- was lax and nearly empty. Intelligence and life sparked in gray eyes slowly glazing over. He was still alive. Wufei shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue in derision.   
  
"You didn't know who you were dealing with, Ralph. And I thought I was your biggest problem. How arrogant of me." The stain on the carpet continued to grow as Ralph's life leaked away. "I'm sorry your life was backward and wrong. I hope you have better luck in your next go 'round. I hope your journey is swift and that you do not look back. And if you come near me or Duo in your next life, I will end it, just as this one is ending." He left the man bleeding, not really sorry that he'd been robbed of his vengeance. The end result was the same regardless of whether Wufei had spilled the blood.   
  
Grabbing the man's discarded pistol, Wufei backed away and turned toward Heero in time to see one of the two remaining men slinking along the other side, trying to get the drop on him, trying to take him on his right side. His partner had his back to the table, his breath coming in quick shallow gasps. The gun he'd swiped still lay on the floor next to him. His face was turned away from his potential attacker. The man caught sight of Wufei and his eyes widened. The handgun, held in shaking hands swung in his direction and two shots fired. The dragon let his gut guide him and he rolled to the left, heard the crunch of bullets striking wood. He came to rest on his stomach and held the gun in two steady hands; he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the meat of the man's bicep and he dropped his gun, clutching at his arm. Heero was on his feet a second later, speeding toward the last man's hiding spot, behind the very armchair they'd almost had him over. He hit the back of the chair at a dead run, toppling it over on top of the man behind it. He leapt free of the jumble of limbs and furniture, blade held high and ready. The man's fumbled gun lay a short distance away and Heero kicked it out of range. Then he hesitated, looking to Wufei, dark blue eyes wide, almost entirely swallowed by black pupils.   
  
They were slipping. It was too much to see it through. Heero was almost 21. Wufei was newly 20. This was wrong, not like anything they'd seen in their short lives. How were they supposed to handle... how could they walk away from so much blood? Wufei swallowed hard and grabbed hold of his wandering, frazzled brain. They could walk away if he kept himself from losing it. He dropped Ralph's gun and strode forward quickly, fist drawing back, backhanding the man who'd shot at him. He side stepped the table and kept going, pulling the chair off the last man and delivering a second vicious blow that knocked him out cold. Then he picked up the kicked away gun and shot the stereo, finally silencing the thudding, pulsing, maddening music.   
  
Silence fell. Complete silence. It rang and roared in his ears in time with his frantic heartbeat. Heero's eyes locked with his and the silence continued. Then Heero took a shaky step forward. Then he dropped his blade and tried to wipe some of the blood away from the gash on his cheek. "That wasn't how it was supposed to go," he said softly.  
  
"No."  
  
"When I said we should come prepared for the worst, I didn't think it would be that."  
  
"No."  
  
"I... need to shower. I'm covered in it." Wufei nodded. "And you... it's spattered all over you." Another nod. "...Will you come with me?"  
  
"Yes."


	25. No Looking Back III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**25a. Heero**

It's slippery when   
Your sense of justice   
Murmurs underneath   
And is asking you:  
How am I going to make it right?  
  
With a palm full of stars   
I throw them like dice  
Repeatedly  
I shake them like dice  
And throw them on the table   
Repeatedly  
Repeatedly  
Until the desired constellation appears  
_-"Desired Constellation" Bjork_  
  
Heero knew that Wufei's fists should have put the two surviving men out for the rest of the night, but he couldn't be sure. So they shouldn't be hanging around on the off-chance that they'd walk out of the bathroom and find someone awake and armed. They'd pulled as many weapons as they could find into the bathroom with them and then locked themselves inside, but there was no way to know for sure whether they were safe. In all likelihood, they were not safe. Heero knew they should be running, sprinting away from this place as fast as their legs could go. But Heero needed... he needed just a few minutes.  
  
They'd scrubbed all the blood off, had washed it out of their hair and from underneath their fingernails. They'd cleaned out all their scrapes and scratches. Wufei's cheeks and chin had been rubbed raw against the carpet when Henri had tried to smother him. His chest and hip bones bore similar marks. Heero had been surprised by the slow-burning pit of anger in his stomach as he scrubbed bits of dirt and carpet fiber out of the cuts. He'd been unable to protect his partner. He'd only been able to watch, figuring Wufei was safer underneath that man than out in the open with a pack of psychos waving guns around. But he'd been hurt anyway and Heero was late helping him. Then, Wufei had gently washed Heero's cheek, his fingers carefully washing away streaks of gunpowder. Much of the gash was cauterized, the bullet burning him on its way past his face. Heero knew it would scar, another to add to his increasing number.  
  
Now they stood under the hot spray of the shower, fingers and palms still questing over slick skin, still reassuring themselves that they'd lived, that seven men had tried to kill them, that they'd all failed and that the partners had survived. Wufei leaned his back against the wall, one foot braced on the lip of the tub, steadying himself. Heero fit himself to the dragon's body, wrapping one hand around the underside of his partner's raised leg. It was almost an exact reproduction of their fierce mating an hour previous. But all aggression and desire were gone. He needed to touch and be touched, be reassured.  
  
Wufei tilted his head back, exposing his neck further as Heero laid wet, open-mouthed kisses along his throat. His splayed fingers slid carefully up and down bruised ribs, wrapped firmly around a jutting hip bone. Their lips met and Wufei whimpered softly into his mouth. He tasted like hot water and soap. Slick arms went around wet bodies and slowly, carefully, they slid to the floor of the tub, Heero resting his forehead on Wufei's shoulder, kissing whatever skin he could reach. The dragon rubbed his knuckles gently against the bumps of his spine. Heero felt oddly safe and protected. He was warm and exhausted. And he was with his ally, his partner. He felt consciousness slipping. "We can't sleep here," he mumbled into Wufei's shoulder. "We need to get home."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But I don't think I can move."  
  
The dragon shuddered a weary laugh. "But just think. Home means pajamas and hot tea and bed and Duo."  
  
Heero's eyes flicked up to his partner's but the warrior was looking somewhere off into middle distance. He wasn't sure who that list of comforts was meant for, but he knew in his gut that it could apply to either of them. Duo was waiting for them both. And that fact alone was enough to get him up on his knees and then to his feet. He shut off the water and turned to help his partner to his feet.  
  
They dressed in silence, Heero ridiculously glad to have his body wrapped in warm, dry, loose-fitting clothes once again. It felt like days since he'd worn clothes. Wufei looked similarly relieved to pull on his thick hooded sweatshirt and his knit cap. They bent down to lace up running shoes and Heero glanced up when he felt Wufei's eyes on him. They glinted with tired good humor. "Race you home."  
  
+  
  
There was a skateboard in the dumpster. It was pretty beat up, but well made. Heero grinned. He could not pass this up. He brushed aside newspaper, coffee cups and gum wrappers and then threw it and himself over the edge of the dumpster onto the pavement. Wufei stood there waiting, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation, breath fogging in the crisp, cold air. When he spotted the board he frowned.  
  
"Not fair. This was supposed to be a footrace. And we jumped into the dumpster from the fire escape to cushion our fall, not so you could go shopping for used sports equipment."  
  
Heero shrugged and placed his left foot on the deck, then his right. He bounced up and down a few times, testing the give in the trucks. They were tired, might need some tweaking, but he'd make it home. "I found a skateboard; I'm taking it."  
  
"I can see that," Wufei said a bit testily.  
  
"I think I'll give it to Duo." He kicked off and coasted down the alley, then called over his shoulder. "The axles are starting to slip a little, but some tape should straighten it out."  
  
"Okay."  
  
It felt good to be on a board again. He leaned back and the trucks gave a bit, turning him back towards his partner. The wheels were still solid; the bearings whirring smoothly. This was a good board. He stepped off and kicked the nose up into his hand, resting the tail on the pavement. He looked at his partner and then up at the clear night sky. A few stars were visible, even in the glare of the street lights. He pulled in a huge breath of cold air and blew it out. He looked back up at the building they'd just escaped from. The lights were still on. Inside, there were six dead men, and two unconscious. He'd killed two of them. He'd killed. The first time in four years, the first time since... It did not feel good. He looked back at his partner. Wufei looked a bit skittish. They needed to get away from here.  
  
"Let's go," he murmured, turning away. The dragon nodded and followed, quickly catching up so they walked side by side.  
  
They were supposed to be racing. He could feel that Wufei needed to run, needed to pound out any residual shock he felt from their evening. Heero wanted to see how fast these bearings really were. But that'd be a very long sprint for Wufei and not very fair. And he didn't want to leave his partner alone either. So he walked.  
  
Wufei's eyes kept returning to the board in his hand. Heero could feel his gaze, but didn't say anything, until finally, sounding like he'd been struggling with the question for several minutes, Wufei's voice broke the silence between them. "Did you and Duo skate a lot? He brought that board home for Quatre a few months ago, with the violin, but I didn't know he..."  
  
"We each had a board when we were younger. It was a good way to get around the city. Duo's better at it than I am."  
  
The dragon nodded, digesting this. "Why did you stop?" Again he sounded like he was fighting himself, asking that question, probably knowing it was none of his business. But the need to understand his partner appeared to win out. And really, they'd just shared each other's bodies rather intimately and without him, Heero would be dead right now, shot in the back of the head, so it wasn't a big deal that he wanted to know some history. History he'd told no one. History he'd experienced with one other person.  
  
"They were stolen... about six years ago. We got jumped, and they took everything we had."  
  
"What do you mean everything?" Wufei's voice was quiet and openly curious now. "You and Duo were thieves. Couldn't you just... get what you needed again?"  
  
Heero shook his head sharply. "No, it didn't work like that. A bunch of kids -- they were a little older than us -- raided our place. We were squatting Downtown. Just the two of us. We had it pretty good, had everything we needed. I think those kids had been planning it for awhile, brought boxes and bags to take all our stuff. Pots and dishes, cook stove, books, blankets, music, skateboards, clothes, Duo's art supplies. All of it... our shoes and the shirts we were wearing."  
  
"You couldn't fight them?"  
  
Another sharp shake of his head. "Too many. I killed two of them and Duo got one with the..." He gestured towards his head. "-with the wire he keeps in his hair, but they got us on the ground anyway. They beat the shit out of Duo, broke a few ribs, fucked up his hip pretty bad, broke both his arms, then held him down and made him watch... " He swallowed thickly, remembering ugly words, bloody knuckles and the cruelty of starving children. "They did the same to me. And I know why."  
  
"Why?" Wufei asked, voice hoarse.  
  
"They were starving and cold. They needed to establish themselves if they were going to survive. And Duo and I were weak, comparatively, just two of us. We were only 14. They needed to win that fight and prevent any future fights. They had to win -- completely. And they did. Duo and I were in the hospital for a long time after that fight. And we never went back there, never got any of our shit back, never saw those kids again."  
  
"If you had?"  
  
"There'd be no bad blood. It was winter, and this fucking city freezes. They were brutal, violent people because of it; they had to live, had to stay warm. But so did we, and that's when we decided we couldn't survive on our own anymore. We needed a family, someone watching our backs, keeping us safe. Neither of us could live with the fear of being that hurt ever again. So we joined up with this Family, started stealing for Gael, part of his kid gangs. It worked out alright, until about two years ago."  
  
"When you started hustling."  
  
Heero grunted. His fingers clenched around the wood in his hands and he had the sudden need to look over his shoulder, to make sure they weren't being followed. Old injuries twinged with phantom pain and his body wanted to bolt, get him home and hopefully into Duo's bed as quickly as possible. He wanted to grab Wufei's elbow and drag him along. His partner didn't know how dangerous winter was in this city and there wasn't any time to explain. They needed to get home before the city's starving, frostbitten children emerged like mangy wolves, smelling and sensing warm blood and good shoes. Even though Heero was older now, stronger and healthy, the vision of the city's invisible predators, their skin gray with malnutrition and cold, bit at his heals. And it would be in his dreams tonight.  
  
"Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get home." His pace quickened and finally he gave into the urge to look back the way they came. The streets were still empty. Wufei's eyes were on him as they walked, probably wondering if he'd come unhinged, remembering such a gruesome and life-altering experience. "I haven't lost it, Chang," he grumbled. "We made it this far."  
  
"I know." Heero glanced at his partner and saw his gaze turned inward. Anger sparked in his fear-frozen veins and he welcomed it. Pulling that shit out of his past had rubbed him raw, and his partner didn't even seem to notice or care.  
  
"Talk, Chang."  
  
Black eyes jerked back to him. "What?"  
  
"You stuck your fingers in my life, my past, brought back a whole lot of shit I didn't ever want to think about again. Fair's fair. Now it's your turn. Talk."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't want to."  
  
"You owe me. I saved you're life too. I want to know why you're in this city, working for Gael as a hustler when you're obviously a fighter." Wufei's posture stiffened and the silence drew out between them. Heero glanced at his partner again and saw the same hooded expression. "Why are you even on this continent?" Black eyes were distant and glassy. He was somewhere else, probably recalling the assumedly unpleasant event that stole him away from his other life and dropped him in their laps.  
  
Finally, he shook out his shoulders, reaching some sort of decision. He met Heero's eyes and said in a quietly firm voice, "My clan kicked me out -- banished me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because of weakness. They see it as an illness and everyone who has it is cast out."  
  
Heero frowned and then experienced a jolt of irrational fear. Illness? "Are you sick?" His brain sputtered. "Chang, we just... and you slept with Duo. How could you not-"  
  
Wufei smiled without humor. "It's not contagious, Yuy. I was born with it, I think. And I don't think the Counsel had any idea what causes it; they only reject it, condemn it. But really, it just is."  
  
This conversation was not illuminating any of Wufei's mysterious past. This conversation was bizarre. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Homosexuality. This city is full of it... I've never met so many people like me."  
  
Oh.  
  
"I assumed that's why they sent me here, why Meiran sent me. She knew... before I did about my weakness and she saved my life."  
  
And bizarre again. "What are you-"  
  
"She kept the elders from having me killed, sent me away where I would be among equals. And I _hated_ her for her mercy at first, thought it'd be better to die instead of living this life that I thought was wrong."  
  
When Heero'd asked Wufei to talk, to explain why he was working for Gael, he had not envisioned this. He'd wanted a distraction from the desolate frozen streets, from the sounds of shuffling feet and sniffling noses. He didn't want this. But now Wufei was stuck in his memories, much like Heero had been. No choice but to ride them out and try to make sense of them if possible.  
  
"Okay, Chang, back up. A ways. Your clan threw you out because you're gay."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And they thought you were sick, that it was a disease?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Heero shook his head. "That's totally fucked. You know that, right? You've been living this life now for over a year. You have friends like you. You know... that's totally fucked, right?"  
  
Wufei shrugged and then shook his head sharply, as though trying to clear it of some unwanted noise. "I... I know that I can live like this. I can do it. Because of Duo and Trowa and..." Dark eyes flashed in his direction so quickly, Heero wasn't sure he'd seen them at all. "... and you. But just because I can do something doesn't mean it's straight in my head. I lived eighteen years of my life thinking that I knew, _knew_ how I was supposed to be. I lived with Meiran and we tried-"  
  
Okay, there was another point of confusion. "Who's Meiran?" he interrupted.  
  
Wufei looked down at his feet as they walked. "She was my wife. I'm sure she's married again to another man who can-"  
  
"You were married?!" His shout echoed down the street, bouncing back to them. Wufei looked at him like he was slow child.  
  
"It wasn't unusual to be married at a young age in my clan. We were married when I was 14; she was 13."  
  
"Did you love her? Do you miss her?" Heero was curious now.  
  
Wufei smiled sadly and shrugged. "I didn't think I did, and I know I didn't love her the way she deserved to be loved. But, looking back, she was the only person who understood me, who actually liked me. She was my only friend, and so, yes, I love her and miss her. But I won't see her again. I'd be endangering her life."  
  
Heero nodded. They were approaching the train station. He could end this strange conversation soon. But one question was sticking. "How did she save your life? I thought you said homosexuals were only cast out."  
  
"Because I killed three men." This did not surprise Heero, and Wufei didn't seem particularly torn up about it either. Not after what they'd just been through.  
  
"Why did you kill three men?"  
  
"They assaulted Meiran and me. They taunted her for being with someone like me, someone sick and weak. They insulted us both. I was defending her honor and mine, but I would have been killed for such a crime. So she begged for my life, asked that I be sent away, to a place where I could live with people like me. Knowing how much I despised my own weakness, the Counsel of Elders thought it a fitting punishment, to put me with people as weak as myself."  
  
Heero started shaking his head. "You don't believe that. You don't think that about your friends or yourself. You are obviously not weak or sick and you shouldn't even be using that language. If you believe that garbage, then you must believe that Duo and Trowa and Quatre are sick, too and you don't."  
  
Wufei pulled off his cap and ran his fingers roughly through short black hair. His features twisted into a fierce scowl. When he spoke his voice broke. "Eighteen years of my life, Heero, ten of which I was told that the way I behaved was wrong, unnatural, sick. How do you... escape that kind of... How do you do anything other than survive the best way you can? Right or wrong don't mean anything in the face of simple survival. How am I supposed to know whether the life I've been living is right, if the lives the rest of you lead are right? I mean, what about you Heero? Do you feel tainted since you know this about me? Will it be the same for you?" Anger crept into his voice, a fierce and automatic defense of what little pride the dragon thought he had left. "Yes, I prefer men. When we fucked tonight, you weren't taking Chang the warrior who let you push him up against a wall; you were fucking a faggot who liked it. Isn't that wrong? Isn't that bad? And what if you liked it? Are you weak too? Are you sick?"  
  
Heero's gut reacted before his brain could tell him that violence would not be constructive. The two of them slammed into a storefront window, Wufei's head thumping against the glass. They scrambled and snarled and twisted until Heero managed to get an elbow in Wufei's bruised ribs. The dragon hissed and went still. Heero leaned in close, bringing their bodies together. He kneed his partner's leg's apart and applied an expert amount of pressure, rubbing their hips together. He wrapped one arm around a strong back and brought his mouth close to the dragon's ear. His partner's breath came quickly; his body responding. And Heero was very suddenly not cold at all.  
  
"This," Heero ground into Wufei's ear, pushing him harder into the glass, "is not weakness. This is biology and chemistry. This is pleasure taken and given. This is heart. And if you ever call it weakness or sickness in front of anyone in our home, _especially_ Quatre, I will cut out your tongue, since that is the only part of you that's even remotely diseased. Do you understand?"  
  
Wufei nodded quickly.  
  
Heero paused to draw back and look over his partner's face, his onyx eyes, sharp nose, and his proud expression, his scraped cheeks and chin and his wild black hair. "You are not wrong and you are certainly not weak." He leaned in again and kissed his partner until he began to kiss back. Their mouths grew eager and aggressive. Wufei's hand tentatively found its way under Heero's sweatshirt. His fingers were freezing and Heero shivered, breaking the kiss. "Don't make me have to prove it to you again. We're both exhausted." Then, abruptly, he pulled away and threw his board down on the cement. He didn't look back as he jumped on and sped off into the shadows. He heard Wufei's sweatshirt slide along the glass, then denim scrape on the sidewalk. He pictured him sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, expression surprised and unsure.  
  
He didn't want to leave his partner alone. He wanted to make certain that they both made it home safely. He wanted pajamas and hot tea and bed and Duo. For both of them. And therein lay the problem. That was why he was leaving his partner alone. He wanted to take Wufei, every screwed up, twisted and damaged bit of him and coax him into bed with himself and Duo. He wanted to prove their strength together. He wanted Wufei and Duo together. But above all, he just _wanted_. And what if that was wrong?  
  
  
**25b. Trowa**  
  
Try to free a slave of ignorance  
Try and teach a whore about romance  
  
How do you say I miss you to  
An answering machine?  
How do you say good night to  
An answering machine?  
How do you say I'm lonely to  
An answering machine?  
The message is very plain  
Oh, I hate your answering machine  
I hate your answering machine  
_-"Answering Machine" The Replacements_  
  
Trowa could hear Duo fidgeting out in the living room. He was still, then he was up walking to the kitchen. Then he was turning the pages of a book, then a magazine. Then Trowa heard the distinctive 'scritch' of a pencil on a sketchpad. Then he sighed loudly and stomped off to the bedroom. Duo was nervous. And for good reason. It was almost two. Heero and Wufei should be returning soon. The Frenchman didn't know in what condition they'd be returning and clearly neither did Duo. He was not hiding this fact very well.  
  
Trowa found Duo's personality very interesting. And that was most unfortunate. The braided hustler had always been loud and flashy and at the same time subtle and understated about the most important part's of his life -- like his relationship with Heero. They were together nearly all the time, yet the extent of their friendship, indeed the very depth of their relationship, was a mystery. He talked nonstop, yet was adept at actually saying very little. He constantly referred to his and Heero's experiences growing up in the city's brutal warehouse district, yet he never revealed any specifics, only what they'd taught him. And he could keep secrets. Take his friendship with Wufei. He and the dragon were not together as often as he and Heero were, but there were definite undertones between them. Quatre didn't pick up on them, and Heero seemed to sense them only on a subconscious level. But Trowa knew that Duo and Wufei were together, as much as two hustlers could be. He knew they craved privacy and intimacy, and when neither were forthcoming, they settled on small touches and hooded looks. Trowa knew this only because he was interested in Duo. In Duo, he recognized a similar talent -- that of discrete observation. They were both masters of stealth and invisibility -- Trowa because he could very nearly disappear in a room, Duo because he was so loud everyone assumed he was only concerned with the sound of his own voice. But Trowa was onto Duo's strategy and he knew his secret.  
  
And that was most unfortunate. It was entirely possible that Duo knew of Trowa's extraordinary powers of observation and memory, and that's why he didn't take extra pains to hide the things he didn't want known. He figured Trowa would figure it out anyway and that he could be trusted not to blow his and Wufei's cover. And sadly, tragically, that's where Duo was wrong. Duo's sharpened senses could not pick up the extent of Trowa's betrayal because Trowa himself didn't know what he'd be forced to reveal to Gael at their next meeting.  
  
It was the price for Trowa's entrance into the inner workings of Gael's organization, and it was the price for preserving Quatre's life with them. Such an unstable and volatile employee should have been eliminated as too much of a security risk. But Trowa had asked for mercy and Gael had granted it, giving Quatre an even higher position in the Family. It was a risk for Gael and Trowa was paying for it, keeping track of everything that went on in their home, remembering every overheard conversation, every subtle touch and look. He could recall every time Duo and Wufei had risked discovery, locking themselves in the bathroom or sneaking a quick grope in the kitchen. He knew the sound of Wufei's breathing and the purring noise Duo made when Wufei touched him in a spot he liked. He knew why Heero rubbed his heart when he saw Duo leave the flat with Wufei.  
  
Tonight would be different. Tonight, Heero and Wufei were returning together. Gael would certainly want to know how the night had gone. Trowa felt vaguely ill with the knowledge that he would tell him everything. He hated that Gael knew everything their was to know about Duo and Wufei's clandestine relationship, when Heero had only uneasy suspicion and a heart that hurt.  
  
But above all, Trowa hated what he'd done to Quatre. The boy was now a hunter and sometimes a killer, a child-warrior walking a delicate line between depression and madness. And Trowa had put him there when he'd pled for his life, when Gael had granted it. And now he demanded all there was to know about the former Winner heir as well. But if Trowa's betrayal kept Quatre safe until Heero took their investigation to the police within the next week, if they all made it out alive, then perhaps the pain they suffered would be worth it. That's what Trowa told himself anyway, as he closed his book, checked his watch again and walked out into the living room. Quatre was due back from his job soon. Trowa didn't feel that he deserved the boy's friendship, tenuous as it was, but he craved it and so he joined Duo in their vigil by the door.  
  
+  
  
"Any idea when he'll be back?" Duo asked him, eyes schooled to his braid.  
  
Trowa flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes and didn't look up from his book. "Should be about now."  
  
"...Was it a big job tonight?"  
  
He shrugged. "He doesn't ever tell me. And Gael won't tell me either when I ask."  
  
Trowa heard Duo shift towards him, pushing himself into the corner of the couch closest to the armchair. "Are you worried about him?"  
  
"About who, Quatre or Gael." Trowa knew he could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Duo got to be a pain in the ass most of the time, so why not?  
  
"Don't be a dick, Frenchie."  
  
Fine. "Of course I'm worried about him. He may have killed someone tonight; I don't know who. He'll walk through that door smelling like blood and he won't talk about it. He'll chew on his licorice because he read somewhere that it's good for his liver. He'll refuse to answer my questions about going in for treatment. We'll go to bed and I'll still smell blood and licorice and he'll lay there a few paces away from me and I will only ask him whether he dressed warmly enough because the weather is the only thing we can talk about without emotionally ripping each other apart."  
  
"Jeez."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So... things are tense with you two, huh?"  
  
"Don't be dense, mutt."  
  
Trowa still didn't look up, but he heard Duo snort. "Easy, peaches, I'm just askin'. I don't want to pry-"  
  
"You love to pry."  
  
"-but I love to pry, so I just wanted to know..."  
  
"Know what."  
  
"Whether you and Quatre were... or are together, or not." Trowa finally looked up to see Duo giving him a nervous smile, his fingers plucking at the upholstery, eyes wide and curious. "Because I could cut the sexual tension between you two with my switchblade and it's drivin' me a little nuts."  
  
Trowa considered him for another moment and then tried and failed to offer a smile. "Shouldn't it have been obvious, Duo?"  
  
Duo's nervous smile turned sad as he let out his breath. "Yes, it was painfully obvious." He looked down at his hands. "But I wanted to hear it from you."  
  
Well, he'd said this much. "Quatre and I... were together, I think, for all of one afternoon."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"...I'm not really sure, because I've never been with anyone on purpose, by choice, before him."  
  
"Oh." Trowa watched Duo try to contain his curiosity and, as usual, he failed. "Well, why for just an afternoon?"  
  
"Because right after we... sort of got together, you took the call from the doctor. He left with you and he hasn't touched me since."  
  
Duo's expression was heartbreaking in its sincerity and understanding. If Trowa's heart hadn't already been run through a cheese grater, he'd have been moved by his friend's sympathy. "Have you talked to him about it?" Duo asked.  
  
Trowa huffed a humorless laugh. "What, being sick or us hooking up? Or hooking up even though he's sick?"  
  
"Either one... all of the above. Have you talked about your situation?"  
  
Trowa ran a hand through his hair, briefly exposing the other side of his face. Anger quickly flashed through him, hot and fierce, but then it was gone again, useless. "I tried. It was the usual line of bull shit. This is not a death sentence. You can live a long and healthy life. You can be in a relationship. We can be together.' He didn't buy it. He, in fact, rejected it outright."  
  
Duo nodded his understanding. "Quatre's a smart kid, but not..." He hesitated. "But, Trowa, it's not bull shit. Quatre will most likely live a long, healthy life."  
  
"I know that, and I think Quatre does too, but it's not enough for him. He feels like his body has betrayed him, like it will fail him in the long run. It's set. His life will be shorter than ours. Or at least he thinks it will be."  
  
"Makes sense why he took the job, when the Boss offered," Duo said thoughtfully.  
  
'He didn't offer; I begged him for it,' Trowa thought darkly.  
  
"He doesn't want it to be set... wants there to be other ways for him to go... bounty hunter not being a particularly safe occupation."  
  
Trowa murmured a noncommittal agreement. Then they fell silent for several moments. But Trowa knew Duo's questions weren't over yet. The young man was still tense beside him.  
  
"So, um... Tro, do you want a relationship with Quatre? I mean, when you hooked up, it was intentional, right? The beginning of something?"  
  
Trowa shrugged. "I don't know. Where I've been, what I've experienced... wasn't love. I've never seen it, I don't think, so I wouldn't know how to be with Quatre. I have ideas, images, of what I would like, how I would be with him, what we would do, but..." He laughed without humor. "How do you teach a whore about romance? I don't think I'd be a very quick student."  
  
Duo smiled sadly and Trowa could almost feel the young man's sorrow stab through him. Trowa thought of Duo and Wufei's secret touches, saw Heero's ache day after day, recalled in painstaking detail Quatre's carefully suppressed starved looks. Were they all ruined? Would they always _be_ ruined?  
  
"But I bet you would be a very eager student, Mr. Barton."  
  
Oddly, absurdly, Trowa felt himself flush and he looked away quickly, grateful for the curtain of hair hiding his face. Then he looked up sharply when he heard a key in the lock.  
  
Duo was on his feet as soon as Wufei stepped into the room, but he stayed by the couch, giving his lover some space. His voice held open relief. "Wu, you're back! Are you okay?"  
  
Wufei was stalled by the door, eyes wide, clearly not prepared for a welcoming committee. Trowa tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible, but he didn't make a move to give them any privacy. Wufei opened his mouth and then closed it and the tension held for another moment before Duo closed the distance between them and folded him into a tight embrace. The dragon started and blinked a few times, then slowly brought his arms up to return the hug. Trowa wondered at this unflinching display of tenderness; he wondered at the trust Duo must have in him for allowing this to take place in the bright light of their living room. Most unfortunate. Gael would want to know about this.  
  
"Yes, I'm back," Wufei murmured belatedly. "And I'm okay."  
  
Duo pulled back and examined his face. Trowa did too. Duo's fingers touched bright red abrasions on Wufei's cheeks and chin, ran over the Dragon's mouth, no doubt examining bruised lips. "You're sure? Because you look like-"  
  
"I'm fine, really. I just need to... I'm very tired and-"  
  
Duo wasn't buying it. "Wufei, what happened? You're all beat to hell."  
  
The dragon was backing away, skirting the furniture and heading straight for his room. "It's nothing. We should... we'll talk about it in the morning, but I need some- I need to sleep now."  
  
Duo took a few steps to follow him and stopped, looking confused and a little hurt. "Wu, I'm not mad at you... you know that, right? If you and Heero had- if you had fun with him, or if you liked- I mean I'm not jealous. You can tell me what happened."  
  
At this Wufei snapped out of his daze. He stood in front of his door and pulled off the cap covering his hair. "Can you quit being a busybody for just one night and give me some space and some privacy? We can talk in the morning."  
  
Duo's eyebrows shot up and a second later, Wufei was in his room, his door slamming shut.  
  
Trowa found himself mirroring Duo's expression and he quickly schooled his features back to normal.  
  
Duo turned to him. "What was _that?"_ he asked softly.  
  
Trowa shrugged. "That was a request."  
  
Duo sat down on the armrest of the sofa and went very still. "He's... I mean, we're not really... but I thought he would have wanted to, to at least..."  
  
"Be careful, Duo," Trowa warned. He wanted to say "Be careful what you say with me in the room," but that would have been a bad idea.  
  
Duo started in confusion. "Be careful of what?" Then he turned sharply towards the door as again, it swung inward.  
  
Trowa felt his heart thud loudly a few times like it did whenever he saw Quatre these days: clad in black, pale and drawn, chewing on a stick of licorice. "Hey," Trowa murmured.  
  
"Hi," Quatre whispered.  
  
Duo looked between them and then offered a smile. "Hey, Q."  
  
He got a small nod in reply and then Quatre's gaze turned back to Trowa, exhausted and worn. Trowa sniffed tentatively -- no blood. Perhaps Quatre hadn't needed to commit murder tonight. Maybe it was a simpler round-up, a small bounty head. The boy took the licorice out of his mouth and removed his black cap, bright blond hair curling around his ears. "I'm going to bed," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. He turned away from them and, like a marionette whose strings had just been jerked, Trowa rose to his feet to follow. He could feel Duo's eyes on his back, large and sad. He refused to turn and meet that gaze, instead keeping his eyes trained on Quatre's back. He told himself Quatre needed the company, that he shouldn't fall asleep alone. He told himself that maybe tonight they could talk about more than just the weather before they went to bed. He'd been telling himself a lot of things lately.  
  
  
**25c. Heero**  
  
Metal heart, you're not hiding  
Metal heart, you're not worth a thing  
_\- "Metal Heart" Cat Power_  
  
Heero dragged himself up the last few stairs to the flat, hoping with all the energy he had left that all his flat-mates were asleep. Even though he had to get them all out of their beds and most likely out of the flat by dawn, he wanted to come home to silence.  
  
He paused outside his door and listened intently. Complete silence greeted him. He breathed out. That meant one of two things. Everyone was asleep and safe. Or they'd all been taken by Gael's flunkies and Heero was walking into an ambush. Well, three options, he supposed. It was a bit more likely that he could find a bunch of _dead_ flunkies inside and four irate flat mates. But regardless of what lay on the other side of that door, he and Wufei were in trouble. Their evening had turned into a blood bath. True, it wasn't really their fault -- those men were wired way too tight -- but they'd instigated it. And Heero had killed two of them. He clenched his fist around the doorknob. They were fucked.  
  
Finally, he turned the key and went inside, glancing quickly around the apartment. He froze when he saw Duo's feet propped up on the arm rest of the couch. Juggling his duffel and the skateboard, he approached silently, afraid to make any sound. But as he peered over the back and saw Duo fast asleep, he allowed himself to relax a bit. He toed off his shoes and retreated to their room to get rid of his bag and the board. He also quickly shed his clothes and put on sweats and a t-shirt. He pulled his hoodie back on and snuck back into the living room. Since Duo's long body was taking up the entire couch, he sat on the floor, picking up the long braid trailing on the carpet, and laying it alongside his friend's extended arm. Long fingers twitched at the feather-light touch of hair against skin and Heero went very still. He couldn't face questions yet, or concerns over the gash in his cheek, but he couldn't bring himself to sit alone in his room.  
  
He reached up and touched the thick rope of hair again, marveling at its softness. He took a deep breath and let it out, ruffling the sleeping man's bangs. Then Heero bowed his head and began to speak, barely above a whisper. His confession.  
  
"Duo, I fucked it all up. I did exactly what you told me not to do. I ran away like always, went to sleep and left Wufei alone. He trusted me to help him and I left him. I thought I could handle it at first -- be as strong as you are. But I'm not like you. I couldn't do it. I couldn't help him. But I..." He paused and swallowed hard, then continued, voice heavy with scorn. "But I can hurt people and scare them. And kill. That's what I did tonight, Duo. I killed two men. And now... Gael's probably on his way here. I messed it up. He'll take me out. 'Put a bullet to him. Put him down, like a dog.'" Heero ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus," he whispered. "And Wufei... Duo, you should have seen him. He was perfect. Fearless." Heero flushed at the thought of the dragon's body, slick and hard under his hands, fighting with graceful precision, gently cleaning his cuts, shoved up against the cold glass of the storefront, shaking with confusion and want. "But you know, Duo. You've seen him. You know better than me." Heero glanced up at Wufei's closed door. "And now I know." He looked away and rested an elbow on the coffee table, propping his head in his hand, massaging his temples in exasperation.  
  
All he'd wanted to do when he got home was crawl into bed with them both, pull them both around him until they were one jumble of dark hair and long limbs. He wanted to wake up with Wufei's head on his chest and Duo's arm around his ribs. He almost smiled at the thought. Then before he allowed himself to go much further in his ridiculous fantasies, he grabbed Duo's shoulder and shook him awake, offering a half-hearted smirk at his best friend's sleepy surprise. Then Duo's wide mouth smiled up at him and the tension in his chest eased just a little.  
  
"Hey, Ro," he drawled, voice thick with sleep.  
  
Heero swallowed hard and tried to smile. "Duo, pack your stuff. I think we have to run now."


	26. Escape I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**26a. Quatre**  
  
So Tonight,  
A drink to the last of us  
Raise a glass  
To all our friends  
A toast to the knives  
The knives in our hands  
Here's where it ends  
_\- Idatel "The Well"_  
  
He rubbed his eyes sleepily and took a large swallow of his coffee, blinking at his flat mates as they clustered together in their cluttered living room, talking softly and excitedly. It was about three in the morning and Quatre had not been expecting the brisk shake of his shoulders that had roused him from sleep. He hadn't expected Trowa's somber green eyes so close to his, or the whispered, "It's started."  
  
He sat in the armchair, legs drawn up to his chest, coffee resting on one knee. He watched as Trowa carefully stitched up the gash on Heero's cheek, one more scar to mark dark skin. The dark-haired hustler did not flinch as the needle pierced his skin, but kept his eyes hooded, relaying the events of the evening. Duo sat beside him, nearly vibrating with nerves. Quatre didn't think the large mug of coffee resting on the table was really necessary for him. Wufei sat at the far end of the couch, clutching a cup of tea to his chest with one hand, resting his head in the other. He massaged his temples and swallowed convulsively. He didn't look particularly pleased to be there on the couch. He glanced at the front door every few minutes.  
  
Quatre didn't want to hear the details of his two friends' evening any more than Wufei wanted Heero to tell them. But he had to admit, it was an exciting tale, one filled with loud music, tight costumes, villainous clients and heroic deeds. If he had been about a year younger and hadn't known any of the four young men around him, he might have liked to have seen it from a safe distance.  
  
Judging by Wufei's pained expression, the things they had done were not heroic or righteous. The slightly older and definitely wiser Quatre knew that tonight had been grisly and unspeakably dangerous. He was willing to bet the sex was pretty amazing, however, judging again by Wufei's fierce blush as Heero gave a brief, perfunctory rundown of that part of the evening. Quatre's scarred mouth twisted in a small smile as Duo pumped Heero for details that, with a quick glance at Wufei squirming at the other end of the couch, he refused to give.  
  
He looked around their small flat and sighed into his mug. The floor was littered with cloths, books, scraps of art, and CDs, all of it Duo's. By the time Trowa had awoken him, Heero, Duo and Wufei had their emergency duffel bags waiting in the living room. They had the fake IDs, passports, and Visas they'd made arrangements for months ago. They had their switchblades and a few other choice weapons. Heero even had his gun - much as he disliked it. They had sleeping bags and a change of clothes. They were all ready to go, except Duo appeared to be having a crisis about the rest of his stuff.  
  
"But, Heero, I've never had stuff before. All my books and music..."  
  
"It's replaceable. You can't take it with you."  
  
His attention returned to the conversation swirling around him when he realized that they'd actually begun to discuss what they would all do now that six men were dead, two by Heero's hand - now that Heero had finally decided that he and Trowa would make their move.  
  
"Wufei and I need to leave immediately. We're only endangering our lives and yours by staying here. Duo will come with us." There was no question about this. Even though Duo hadn't been on the job, even though he'd done nothing to warrant running away, he would not be left behind. Quatre thought that it would probably be safer for him if he stayed. Or he did until Heero spoke again. "Even though he wasn't involved tonight, Gael would use him to bring us back here." He didn't look at Duo as he spoke these words. "Gael has never liked Duo, and without me or Chang here, he would-" His throat closed on that sentence. And the subject was dropped. Duo would be going with Heero and Wufei.  
  
"We'll hide out until the worst of the commotion dies down. That's where both of you come in." Quatre met Heero's dark eyes and kept his expression blank. "You both should make every effort to sever ties with us. Establish distance between us so that Gael doesn't question you too closely. We're not telling you where we'll be so you couldn't tell him even if you wanted to. But learn all you can about Gael's search efforts for us, specifically who he goes to in the police department. Who is he relying on to find us? I've already chosen a contact at the station; she seems clean, but I've got to be sure that when we go public with everything we've gathered that it will actually see the light of day and that we won't end up dead." That could have been the most Quatre had heard Heero ever say in one go. "Will you do this?"  
  
Trowa nodded immediately. This was old hat for him. He'd been hip deep in Gael's business for months now. Quatre felt a thrill of fear go through him. He glanced at his best friend and swallowed hard. Trowa had been guarded and reticent around Quatre since they'd found out about his illness and its cause. And for the most part, Quatre had been grateful for the space. When he'd started working his new job, he hadn't wanted Trowa hovering and questioning him about his safety and his health and when was he going to start treatment and did he need any help planning any of his jobs and- But Trowa hadn't said any of those things or offered any help. He'd backed off as soon as Quatre had shoved him away that first night he'd come home. But he'd not vanished. He appeared and disappeared like some apparition, by Quatre's side when loneliness and exhaustion and fear crept into the boy's heart and body; gone when he turned to look for him. They still played music together, still went for long runs through the park. Trowa stressed the need for Quatre to maintain his physical health as well as his nutrition, so the Frenchman often cooked for Quatre, though they did not often eat together. He was there and he was not. Quatre was comforted by his elusive presence. And he did not ask for more; he didn't think he could handle it, not until they escaped Gael's Family and ran some place safe, away from the violence of his new job, away from the danger of Trowa's. When he could rest and go in for treatment and recover his health and Trowa could be free from the Family and his obligations to Heero's escape plan, then perhaps they could pick up where they left off. And that had been a good place, he remembered with a small smile. A chilly bedroom and a warm body beneath him, shuddering and gasping his name as they hastily touched each other. His smile got a little bigger at the memory of-  
  
He looked up sharply when he realized four sets of eyes were watching him, waiting for his answer. "What was the question?" he asked fuzzily. Duo snorted and Wufei rolled his eyes. Heero smirked and repeated himself. "Will you help us by helping Trowa find out who Gael relies on within the-"  
  
"Oh, right." He shook his head quickly to clear it. "Of course. But, Heero, how long do you think we'll need to hang around while you three hide out?"  
  
"No more than a week. Probably less. You'll be given plenty of warning."  
  
"And we're just supposed to act normal?"  
  
Heero hesitated, sensing something in Quatre's tone that made him uneasy. "As normal as possible. I really don't think you want Gael sniffing around here too much. And you don't want him interrogating you."  
  
"Certainly not," Quatre replied calmly. "It's just that I have a job this week. I have to find this girl, who apparently looks a lot like me, who does what I do for some other boss in this town, and who either needs to be brought to Gael for god knows what reason or killed if she won't go." Silence hung heavily for a moment. "So that's what I have to do on Wednesday while you three are on vacation." Wufei raised an eyebrow and suddenly looked a whole lot more interested in the conversation. Duo chewed nervously on his lower lip; Trowa looked down at his hands and Heero's face hardened into a mask of determination. "I'd appreciate it if Trowa and I could be out of here sooner rather than later, for my sake and for this girl who I'd really rather not murder."  
  
"Quatre, I'll do my best, but I just think that-"  
  
"Hsst!" All eyes turned to Wufei, who had his head tilted to the side, eyes closed in concentration. When he opened them, Quatre felt the hair on his arms stand up. "They're coming. I can hear them."  
  
**  
26b. Wufei**  
  
London calling to the faraway towns  
Now war is declared - and battle come down  
London calling to the underworld  
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls  
London calling, now don't look to us  
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust  
London calling, see we ain't got no swing  
'Cept for the reign of that truncheon thing  
  
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in  
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin  
Engines stop running, but I have no fear  
Cause London is burning and I, I live by the river  
_\- The Clash_  
  
Since he'd positioned himself closest to the door, he heard it first - the heavy tread of booted feet attempting to be silent, cursing the fact that there was no elevator in the building and that they had to get to the sixth floor on foot. He stood abruptly, glad to interrupt the escalating tension between Heero and Quatre. "We have to go now," he said firmly. They all looked up at him, startled, until Heero quickly rose to his feet. Duo glanced around the room at the familiar lines of their home and at his belongings strewn about the floor.  
  
"Now? Already?"  
  
Wufei stepped into his shoes and quickly tied the laces. "Yes. We have maybe twenty seconds."  
  
Heero tossed his bag over his shoulder and pulled a thick cap over his wild hair. "Let's go, Duo."  
  
Quatre and Trowa were on their feet, looking like they wanted to run, too. Wufei didn't blame them. Duo stood up. "But I'm not ready. I mean - is this really it? We're never coming back-"  
  
"Come _on_ , Duo," they both growled, grabbing him by the arms and lifting him over the back of the couch.  
  
Duo sputtered in protest but quickly got his feet under him and then shook off the hands dragging him toward his bag and then the fire escape. "I _can_ walk," he snapped.  
  
"Then do it," they both said, their voices again in sync. Heero cast a sidelong glance at Wufei, but the dragon kept his expression blank. Wufei quickly returned his gaze to Duo as his lover shrugged into his lined hooded sweatshirt, leaving the braid inside. He then pulled a cap over his hair and fingerless gloves over his hands. He bent down to pick up the skateboard Heero had found for him.  
  
"Duo, n-"  
  
"Save it, Heero," he said lightly. "I'm not leaving it."  
  
Quatre suddenly took two quick steps toward the door, throwing dagger in hand. "Would you three go already?" They could all hear footsteps now and a heavy sense of impending violence fell on Wufei's heart. After what he'd witnessed a few short hours ago, the thought of another fight didn't arouse much enthusiasm. Quatre turned to look at them, blue eyes bright. "Go!" he hissed.  
  
Heero nodded quickly. "Stall them for as long as you can." Then they filed silently into the kitchen. Wufei threw open the window out to the fire escape and stepped through onto the cold metal stairway. Immediately buffeted about by harsh winter wind, he ducked low and went down a few steps clinging to the rail. He watched as Duo and then Heero climbed out after him, Heero shutting the window behind them both, just as they heard Quatre let in the men pounding at the door. Almost immediately they heard voices in their home, Trowa and Quatre's rising to meet them, indignant and annoyed.  
  
"So glad you're here... they all ran out of here hours ago... in such a rush... no they didn't say where they were going... I hope you find them... honestly, they've been like strangers lately... we haven't had much to do with..."  
  
They huddled together in the shadows for a few moments, getting their bearings and scanning the streets below them, half-listening to the heated conversation inside the flat. Duo took hold of Wufei's arm and squeezed once, his eyes wide with excitement. Wufei offered a small smile in return, mindful of the sharp words they'd exchanged earlier, but also caught up in the rush of near- freedom. They were so close.  
  
"Down. Now," Heero whispered.  
  
The soft rubber soles of their shoes made very little sound as they descended, though Wufei had to look up every few steps to assure himself that Duo was still there, because his feet made no sound at all. Above them, their kitchen window slammed open and voices shouted. "Search the roof! They may be hiding up there." The three hustlers froze as eight men emerged onto the fire escape and began to climb upward. Pressing themselves into the shadows, they held their breath and waited. Wufei found Duo's arm stretched protectively across his chest, holding him back and keeping him still. He succeeded in not being annoyed by this only because, as he looked down, he saw the streets teaming with Muscle and his heart thudded to a halt. He nudged Duo with an elbow in his ribs and the two looked down, then back up at each other. Wufei's brow creased with worry and Duo gave him a small nervous smile that the dragon took to mean many things rolled into one, mainly, "We're going to have to fight our way out of this one, aren't we; please don't die doing it - I'd be very upset; I'm glad we're here together, even if 'here' means doing this," and finally, "Make sure you save some for me." Duo's shadowy violet eyes were lit up with anticipation as they turned upward to meet Heero's gaze. Wufei thought he saw a similar look pass between them. Then Heero reached around Duo and shoved Wufei's arm downward, jerking his chin toward the street.  
  
"Go," he mouthed.  
  
Wufei swallowed and nodded, vaulting over the railing and drawing his sword in one smooth motion. He landed silently, knees bending to absorb the impact. He knew Duo and Heero were behind him because suddenly the men leaning against their cars as well as those patrolling the rest of the city block froze, looking at him in surprise, but also behind him. Many began to approach, slowly and carefully, gazes darting between his sword and his eyes.  
  
"Hey, the Boss only wants to talk to you. We're not looking for a fight."  
  
In spite of his exhaustion and the fact that he'd already witnessed plenty of violence that night, Wufei felt his senses ignite with the promise of more. He felt Heero's breath in his ear. "Head to the south. We'll meet up Downtown."  
  
He nodded once and took off running.  
  
+  
  
Dodge back, spin, half a step forward, thrust, turn, thrust, block. Wufei let his years of training take over as he fought off the men who'd surrounded him. His blood sang in his veins and his limbs hummed as he cut his way free, sword flickering in the dim light of the street lamps. His body knew this fight even if his mind was still screaming at him that he was heavily outnumbered, that while he knew how to fight, he'd only really ever sparred before. Only once had he fought with lethal intent, when he'd been defending Meiran's honor. Even the massacre earlier that night had not really been his fight. He'd been pinned for most of it. Heero'd done the dirty work. Wufei was a fighter, but not a killer.  
  
At least that's what his brain was trying to get him to believe. But his body and his heart knew this fight and so he let his muscles guide him.  
  
He spun again, blocking a heavy blow on his forearm. His bones groaned, the limb going numb, and he took a step back under the force of it. Sensing another's approach, he kicked out behind him and felt his foot connect with an attacker's gut.  
  
He went down under a large man, skillfully tackled to the ground, but the Muscle never stood a chance as Wufei flicked open his switchblade, burying it in his throat and ripping outward. But now he was on the ground and the remaining bodyguards took advantage of the opening. He kicked and snarled and bit and then suddenly stilled as he heard the unmistakable sound of a skateboard running over the cracks in the sidewalk. He grinned lopsidedly around a split lip as the men clutching his sweatshirt were scattered by a lithe body shooting through their midst. Wufei ducked as Duo shot overhead. His lover landed a few paces away and then turned back, kicking his board up into his hand and using it like a cricket bat, knocking aside two more of Wufei's assailants. He was grinning like a fool and Wufei found himself mirroring his expression. He flipped back to his feet, and sliding his sword back into its scabbard, he went after the remaining men, foot scything out in a vicious arc, snapping one man's head to the side. His fist closed and he backhanded another. Then he watched in surprised admiration as Duo -- using the Japanese short sword that he'd only ever seen out of its scabbard once or twice for polishing -- attacked with frightening speed. His blade gleamed as he dodged between the two remaining men, his body seeming to flicker in and out of existence as he ran circles around their attackers, moving faster than they could see. They were on the ground in seconds, bleeding or unconscious, but not critically wounded.  
  
Duo grabbed his arm and dragged him down the street. "Come on, lover," he said a bit breathlessly. "We've gotta meet Ro Downtown."  
  
"Where did you learn to use that sword? I've only ever seen you-"  
  
"Polish it?"  
  
"Right."  
  
They started running with long easy strides, as though they were taking a jog along their usual route. "Well, Wu, sometimes it pays to sleep around."  
  
"You had sex with someone in exchange for lessons?"  
  
Duo shoved his shoulder and he almost stumbled. When he met Duo's eyes, he met a mask of forced humor. "Hooker, hello?" Then Duo lengthened his stride and pulled ahead of him.  
  
Head still ringing, blood still pumping furiously, Wufei ran, brain coldly tallying his body count. At least five. Perhaps more. He heard hesitant footsteps behind them and he turned to see a few of Gael's muscle pursuing them, holding various injured body parts as they went. "We have to get off this street," Wufei gasped out just as Duo jerked him to the right, down an alley.  
  
Wufei's lungs burned in the frozen air and he was pretty much numb from the waist down, but they ran until he saw the scattered lights of Downtown spread out before him. It was a maze of abandoned warehouses and office buildings, many with broken windows, many housing dozens of homeless kids. Windows flickered with dim light, probably barrel fires. Wufei shivered and glanced sidelong at his companion. Duo took in a deep breath and turned a cruel grin on him. "Welcome home, Wu. Ro and I'll give you the tour tomorrow, but you won't see the old factory he and I grew up in 'cause it's a pile of rubble over there." He gestured vaguely toward an inky space of darkness to the east.  
  
Wufei found himself nodding, feet rooted to the sidewalk. How could they have lived here for years on end? How could they possibly have survived? "You... really grew up here?" he said softly.  
  
Duo, now halfway across the street, turned back and swept his arm wide, encompassing all of Downtown. "You want real freedom? This is where you go." His face was twisted in that ugly grin again. "Freedom to live how you want, freedom to die without anyone giving a shit." Wufei rarely saw this side of Duo, his darkness as well as his unflinching acceptance of all that he'd been through in his short lifetime. He started forward, needing to stand by Duo in his memories, to meet them head-on.  
  
He saw the car the same time Duo did, the moment its headlights cast the braided hustler in blinding white, lighting up his dark clothing and making his pale skin glow.  
  
"Du-"  
  
The car hit him, tossing him up onto the hood, before Wufei could shout his useless warning,. The skateboard flew into the air and skittered loudly on the sidewalk. Wufei stood frozen as Duo rolled up against the windshield and then slid off onto the pavement, body limp, voice silent. He heard a hoarse shout behind him and turned in a daze to see Heero running toward them, eyes wide in fear. Swallowing thickly, he turned back to the accident scene. The car was black and, stepping out of it were four men. They picked Duo up off the pavement and moved to put him in the back seat. Wufei couldn't understand why they would want to do that. They should call an ambulance, not put him in the-  
  
"Chang! What are you- Don't let them take him!" Heero's panicked words jerked him out of his daze and he felt the numbness spreading outward from his chest vanish. His sword came free from its scabbard in one swift motion and he stepped off the curb. One of the men spotted him and came forward, raising a gun.  
  
"Come quietly, Chang. We'll patch him up. He's just unconscious. Just put away that sword and come with us."  
  
Wufei's lip curled and he answered the man's request, ducking low and then surging upward, blade glinting red in the dim light. The gun flew from dead fingers and air rattled noisily through exposed vocal chords. Wufei didn't pause as the man fell. He leapt onto the hood of the car and then somersaulted off, blade slicing through the next man. The third managed to fire a shot and Wufei's sword arm suddenly burned. Switching his blade to his left hand, he shoved his elbow into the man's gut, then quickly drove upward, breaking his nose. The man fell backwards and Wufei mechanically finished him off, his brain filled with static. He looked up in time to see Heero taking out the last man, kicking out his knees, blocking an elbow aimed at his middle, then drawing his serrated blade quickly across the man's throat.  
  
They pulled Duo from the car without a word to each other. Heero cradled his best friend's head in his lap while Wufei felt for broken bones. Miraculously there were none. There wasn't even any blood. "I- don't think he's hurt, Heero. But his back... I can't tell." He leaned in close and touched his lover's face, smoothing hair and street dirt from his skin. He felt soft breath on his hand when he held it over the young man's mouth. He pulled open Duo's eyelids and found that the street lamp above them caused the pupil to dilate like it should. "We probably shouldn't move him." Heero grunted, dark eyes never leaving Duo's face. "But we can't stay here. We just killed four people." They glanced up when sirens started up in the distance. "People do live here," Wufei said, mostly to himself, looking up at the dark buildings surrounding them. Even though the neighborhood was on the edge of Downtown, families still lived there. "Someone must have called the police."  
  
He looked down to see Heero vigorously rubbing Duo's cold hands, then gently slapping his cheek. He called his best friend's name softly, begging him to wake up. Wufei took Duo's other hand and began to do the same, glancing up when he heard the sirens getting closer.  
  
Then shadowy eyelids blinked rapidly and fluttered open. Wufei let out the breath he was holding, and he heard Heero huff a small laugh.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Duo," Heero breathed. "How the hell did you get hit by a fucking car? What were you..."  
  
Duo smiled up at him, eyes a bit unfocused and Wufei saw Heero's sharp features soften into a more gentle expression. "Hey, babe," he whispered. "I was just restin' my eyes for a minute. No big."  
  
Heero hiccupped another laugh. "I saw you get hit, Duo. It looked bad."  
  
Duo blinking slowly and shook his head. "Nah. Wu was with me. I was safe." He started to sit up, but Heero pressed him gently back into his lap. "Hey, where is Wu? He was right-"  
  
"I'm here," he murmured, squeezing the chilly fingers he still held.  
  
Dazed violet eyes briefly focused on him. "There you are, lover. Would you tell Heero to let me up? We've gotta get off the street. Can't you hear those sirens getting closer?"  
  
Wufei froze at Duo's words and before he could stop himself, he raised his gaze to meet Heero's eyes. But his partner was very carefully not looking at him and his face was blank. Forcing his body into motion, Wufei took one of Duo's arms, and waited for Heero to take the other. "I think we can move him," the dragon said softly. Heero nodded sharply and the partners hoisted their friend to his feet, each draping an arm over their shoulders. Bending to pick up the skateboard as he went, Wufei looked back at the four bodies on the street. His count was up to eight now, and they probably wouldn't be the last. As lights began to flash in the windows of apartment buildings and store fronts, they disappeared into the crumbling warehouse district, Heero leading them as surely as though he'd lived there his entire life.  
  
As they walked, Heero and Wufei spoke softly, asking Duo questions, trying to keep him awake and alert. Even at such a soft volume, their voices echoed in the empty spaces between factories and warehouses. And every time Duo stumbled, the sound of crumbling pavement mocked them with their inability to stay silent. Wufei could see Heero growing increasingly uneasy, and he knew it had everything to do with the experience he'd related to Wufei earlier that night. He knew his partner was remembering the sound of children predators' feet shuffling through the cluttered crumbling streets. On more than one occasion, Wufei found himself glancing quickly over his shoulder, just to be sure that there in fact was no one behind them. He hoped that their ragged state did not make them targets. He hoped that any eyes watching them could plainly see his sword strapped across his back and that the gun on Heero's hip glinted in the occasional street lamp.  
  
Sometimes Duo answered their questions. Mostly he mumbled 'yes' or 'no.' Then, as Heero murmured that they were nearing their destination, Duo lifted his head and turned to his oldest friend, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw. Wufei instantly flushed and looked away, but he couldn't block out what was said.  
  
"Hey, Ro?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"You shoulda seen Wu fighting tonight. He was bloody brilliant - took out these two thugs like they were nothin'. You'd think Gael would hire better bodyguards." He paused. "Actually, I think Wu's just that good. He was like...like a moving painting or something."  
  
Heero's mouth twisted in a small smile as he looked at Wufei over Duo's head. "I know what Chang can do." Heero held his gaze for an uncomfortable stretch. "I've seen him. Though I think moving artwork is a bit of an exaggeration." Wufei found himself smiling in return.  
  
"Well, you'll forgive the guy who's just had a run in with a two-ton metal box. My metaphors might be a little off." Wufei found his smile getting wider. He realized that Heero was watching him smile with a strange, considering tilt to his lips. Wufei looked away first.  
  
Duo withdrew again after that brief conversation and the friends made the rest of the trek in silence, finally stopping to rest against the dilapidated brick wall of a huge factory. Heero ducked out from under Duo's arm and drew his blade, turning towards the side entrance to the building. The door hung on its hinges and swung gently back and forth in the brisk wind.  
  
"Heero, wait," Duo mumbled, managing with Wufei's help to right himself and stand away from the wall. "You can't go in there alone. Take Wu to watch your back."  
  
"I'm not leaving you alone."  
  
"Then we'll all go."  
  
"I'm just making sure the building's safe. It won't take long."  
  
"The whole thing?" Wufei hissed, glancing upward at the looming wall. "That'll take an hour at least."  
  
Next to him, Duo shook his head. "Most kids like the smaller buildings 'cause they're easier to claim and defend, not so many hiding places. They stay out of places like this for the most part. It should be pretty easy to figure out whether this one's occupied. But you shouldn't go in there alone, Ro."  
  
Heero was already pulling open the ruined door and stepping inside. "I'll be fine. If I don't come out in fifteen minutes, run."  
  
Wufei tensed, but Duo weakly squeezed his arm. "Don't worry. I always take his instructions as the opposite of what he really wants. We wait ten minutes and then we go after him." Wufei nodded, slightly confused, then jumped when Duo's knees buckled. "I have to sit down now," he whispered. Wufei helped him into a sitting position, pushing his knees up to his chest, trapping as much heat over his heart as possible. Then he stood quickly and scoured the area for any signs of movement. He felt a small tug on his pant leg and looked back to Duo, finding him shivering and ghostly pale in the near darkness. "Sit with me for a minute, lover. My legs are made of jelly and I'm fucking freezing."  
  
Wufei quickly obeyed and knelt in front of Duo's hunched and shivering body. He rubbed the young man's arms and then his thighs, trying to massage life and warmth into his limbs. The words were out of his mouth before he could yank them back. "You said that in front of Heero."  
  
"Said what," came the tired response.  
  
"Before, when you woke up. You called me... you said 'lover' in front of Heero."  
  
He got a raised eyebrow in reply. "I did?" Wufei nodded. "Damn. Guess our secret's out." Sleepy violet eyes rose to meet his. "Is that bad?"  
  
Wufei looked away quickly, then up to the night sky. Clouds hung heavily over them; it looked like snow. The first hints of dawn lent the air a lighter blue tint. It'd been a very long night. "I- don't know, actually."  
  
"I think I'm glad he knows. He probably already knew."  
  
Wufei nodded and again started rubbing Duo's arms and legs. "Everything's different now. After tonight, it got all fucked up."  
  
"Hey, Wu?" The dragon paused and met his lover's shadow-filled eyes. "After your wild and crazy sex night with Heero, do you still like me? Boring, can't-get-out-of-the-way-of-a-moving car, Duo Maxwell?"  
  
Wufei heard tired humor and tangible insecurity in Duo's voice - simultaneous confidence and hesitance. The many layers of Duo's emotions had fascinated him from the very beginning. Only recently had he grown to love them. He leaned forward over Duo's drawn-up knees and kissed his chapped lips. "If only you were boring," he said with a smirk.  
  
Duo laughed.


	27. (Heero and Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**27a. Heero**  
  
It's not meant to be a strife  
It's not meant to be a struggle uphill  
Undo  
If you're bleeding  
Undo  
And if you're sweating  
Undo  
If you're Crying  
Undo  
_-Bjork_  
  
They found a sheltered spot under a staircase with a good view of the door and the windows, yet mostly out of sight of both. Heero and Wufei had to half-carry Duo to their small hiding place. The young man drifted in and out of consciousness, body limp with exhaustion and shock. They leaned him against the stair and quickly unrolled their sleeping bags from the duffels they'd managed to keep hold of throughout their chaotic flight from Gael's men. Unzipping them all, they made a nest of thick blankets. Then, taking off his shoes, they helped the dazed young man under the covers. He smiled up at them both and Heero felt some of the tension ease from his body. They were safe now and away from the comfortable prison of their home. They'd taken the next step in the scheme that would free them all from their lives under Gael's thumb. There was no returning to their previous lives. He and Wufei had killed tonight - the two of them together probably about fifteen men. There was no going back, ever.  
  
And good riddance.  
  
"You need to rest now," he said softly, pulling the sleeping bag closer around Duo's chin. His best friend nodded.  
  
"That won't be hard. Make sure you and Wu sleep."  
  
"We will." He shivered and tried to conceal it, but even in his dazed state Duo saw the slight tremor of his muscles. "You both can climb in here with me. If ever there were a time to go for that whole `sharing body heat' as an excuse for sleeping together, now would be it." Heero huffed a small laugh.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'm serious."  
  
"I know you are. And I have every intention of taking you up on your offer."  
  
Duo looked up at him and then blushed faintly. "Oh." He licked his lips. "Good."  
  
+  
  
Wufei hissed in pain as Heero carefully examined the bullet wound in his sword arm, poking around the edges of the gash, shining their flashlight on it from all angles.  
  
"It's clean," he said finally, setting the light down on the floor and reaching for his duffel and first aid kit. "It's too wide to stitch up, and I'm not very good at that anyway. Trowa's the resident medic."  
  
"It's okay," Wufei said softly, teeth chattering a bit before he clenched them closed. He sat very still in the frigid air of the old factory, obviously trying hard not to shiver. Stripping down to only his t-shirt to give Heero better access to his wound had made perfect sense at the time, but the dragon had probably lost pretty much all feeling in his fingers and his teeth were going to start chattering in earnest in a second if Heero didn't hurry up with the antiseptic and the bandages. "W-what's one more sc-scar," Wufei managed. "You got one t-tonight, too."  
  
Heero looked up sharply and gently touched the stitches in his cheek. The gash stung when he thought about it. Wufei's taught body trembled and Heero quirked a small smile. "Sorry," he murmured. "This'll only take a second." He quickly swabbed antiseptic over the wound, noting Wufei's minor flinch. Or it might have been a shiver. Then he covered the wound with a gauze pad and taped it in place. "You were lucky the bullet only grazed your arm. You'll probably need it within the next few days." He pressed firmly on the bandage. "How does that feel?"  
  
Wufei closed his fist and straightened his arm. "I c-can't feel much of anything, so probably okay." Heero silently passed Wufei his clothes and the dragon eagerly pulled all of his layers back on.  
  
The next several minutes were very awkward as the partners quickly went outside to go to the bathroom and brush their teeth. Heero bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he brushed, trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to sleep with both Duo and Wufei, knowing four things: 1. He'd kissed Duo 2. He'd had sex with Wufei 3. As he'd suspected Wufei and Duo were, on some level, romantically involved and 4. He wanted them both. He spit out his toothpaste and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at pale gray clouds, the air still strangely tinted as the sun rose. "Shit," He muttered before turning to go back inside.  
  
He found Wufei pacing in front of Duo's sleeping form, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looked up sharply when he noticed Heero's presence. "Are we really going to all sleep here, together?"  
  
Heero froze, carefully measuring his words before answering. He spoke slowly, voice soft. "It's below freezing, Chang. If we don't, we probably won't wake up." He figured appealing to the dragon's emotions would be disastrous - better to stick to logic. He didn't wait for his partner's response, but quickly removed his shoes and slid under the sleeping bags. He tried to disturb as little air as possible, but Duo still shivered and turned toward him in his sleep. Heero found his own muscles trembling, whether from the cold, from exhaustion, or from nerves, he didn't know. But he swiftly drew Duo into his arms, tangling their legs together and breathing in the scent of his skin. He shut his eyes and let the challenge to Wufei stand. He burrowed down into the sleeping bags until his ears were covered and waited.  
  
He felt movement on Duo's other side and tensed, but the sleeping bag settled and Wufei remained at a distance, close enough to be under the covers but not touching either of them. Duo snuggled closer against Heero's chest, fingers clutching at his sides. He heard his partner rolling over, felt the sleeping bag pull. He tugged back.  
  
"It's just sleep, Chang. It doesn't have to mean any…" He trailed off, not sure what he actually wanted to say.  
  
"Doesn't have to mean anything?" Wufei finished quietly. "This may just be sleep, but it most certainly does mean something," he huffed.  
  
"And what's that?" Heero murmured.  
  
"Hell if I know. I just know everything's screwed up now. It's an impossible mess. I don't know how to fix it, make it right with the both of you."  
  
Heero sighed quietly and, leaning carefully over Duo, he slid his hand along the sleeping bag until he found Wufei's wrist. Fingers closed around chilly skin and tugged. Wufei hissed his frustration and then shuffled closer. In the hazy light of dawn, Heero saw sleepy black eyes take in the details of his face, resting on his eyes and mouth and then dropping to the floor.  
  
"Look, I -"  
  
"Or sleeping together could mean something," Heero interrupted, wondering at his boldness. "…If you wanted it to."  
  
Wufei stiffened, suddenly looking like a wild animal caught in headlights. "I- don't know."  
  
Heero looked away. He'd seen enough of that look for one night "Then just sleep," he said quickly, face flushed hot even in the cold. Wufei nodded, swallowing hard. Pillowing his head on a shirt, the dragon drew close to Duo, tentatively wrapping one arm around the young man's middle. Heero felt his partner's leg brush against his and quickly withdraw. Not quite able to close his eyes, he watched Wufei's hesitant efforts to get comfortable. He finally found a good position and fell still, breathing a bit quick. Heero let his arm slip from Duo's shoulder until it brushed Wufei's. The dragon sucked in a quick breath and moved to jerk his arm away, but Heero held on. "Just sleep," he said again. Wufei held that startled, frightened look for another moment, then let out a harsh breath, ruffling Duo's bangs.  
  
"Heero, what is it that you want? I can't handle any more of this unspoken shit. I know that neither of us is particularly good at verbal communication, but I'm sick of tension and innuendo and staring contests and passive aggressive body language. So I think that you should try to tell me what you want. We owe each other something… maybe it's only that."  
  
Heero looked down at Duo's sleeping face, eyes tracing smooth skin and a delicate bone structure. Bruises were forming on his chin and left cheek bone from the accident. "I want us all to be safe. I want happiness - for you and Duo… and for me."  
  
"Well, sure, but how-"  
  
"I don't know, Chang," he hissed. "I've never felt this sort of- I've never trusted anyone other than Duo. I've never wanted anyone other than Duo. I've loved him for years - I'm sure you know that and have known it."  
  
"Since I moved in a year ago." Wufei's proud voice was subdued and humble.  
  
"I was stupid to say nothing, because then you took him from me, without me even realizing." A heavy silence fell until Heero sucked in another breath. "Or maybe I gave him up, working obsessively on this scheme to get us out of here. But regardless, he was never mine. Even though we were children together and we protected each other and killed for each other, I never showed him or told him how I felt."  
  
Wufei kept his gaze on Duo's sleeping face, his arm now firmly wrapped around the young man's ribs. "It started after that job with Ralph. I went to him to tell him that I didn't bear a grudge over what happened that night. I wanted him to know that we were still friends and instead… something else entirely happened." Wufei's dark eyes wouldn't meet his, but his words were measured and calm, unhurried and unafraid. "It all went very quickly after that… every spare second we had - every moment of near-privacy - we took. I was terrified, both that you would find out and that I wouldn't be able to leave him once you did find out. I always thought he belonged with you, that our time together would be short, because he'd figure it out sooner or later."  
  
"Duo doesn't work like that," Heero said softly, looking down at their sleeping friend. "He doesn't give his heart to anyone, really. He never has, in all the years I've known him. Just because he's a- just because we're paid for sex doesn't mean we take it lightly… It makes us all confused and afraid… But Wufei, if he was with you, then he was with you. He chose you. I've known him long enough to know that."  
  
Wufei nodded, though he didn't look particularly reassured. "What do you want, Heero?" he asked again.  
  
Heero considered his answer carefully, choosing his words before he said them. "I want… to feel what I did tonight, every day, all the time."  
  
Wufei raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Heart-pounding fear that you'll either be shot or beaten to a pulp by Gael's thugs?"  
  
Heero rolled his eyes. "No, I obviously do not want that. I want to know that you have my back, that we can always watch out for each other and trust each other. I want to feel like we're partners. And I want to know that Duo will always be there, right with us, every step. I want us to be unbreakable."  
  
The frown line that had drawn Wufei's brow together for most of the conversation lifted just a bit. "That sounds good," he whispered.  
  
Heero's grip on his arm tightened and he tugged gently. Wufei hesitated a fraction of a second and then slid closer, molding his body to Duo's back, twining his legs with theirs. Heero took a deep breath and let his best friends' body heat finally unclench the ache in his chest.  
  
  
**27b. Wufei**  
  
There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road  
There are some dragons who were built to have and hold.  
And some machines are dropped from great heights lovingly.  
And some great bellies ache with many bumblebees  
And they sting so terribly  
_\- "clam, crab, cockle, cowry" Joanna Newsom_  
  
Wufei was being smothered. Henri's weight was real and heavy on his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs, keeping him from drawing a breath. His legs were immobilized as well, pinned, held fast. He tried to move, to free himself and found that his limbs were too leaden; they were sunk into the floor. He tried to call for help, but only the smallest moan came out, a slurred rumble in his mouth. No one could have heard that; no one would know he was here. Where was Heero? Those psychos were shooting at each other just a moment ago. He hoped Heero was alright. But he didn't hear gunshots now, just deadened silence. Just his own futile struggle and inevitable suffocation. He tried to open his eyes and couldn't even do that.  
  
Henri was moving on top of him, his weight shifting, pressing down on his shoulder, lifting off his chest. Now, he had to move now or else-  
  
His eyes shot open and he drew a quick gasping breath, filling his lungs with sharp cold air. His gaze darted around the room, trying to ascertain his location. A very high ceiling, wood rafters, spider webs, dingy windows, a staircase directly over him. Panic rose in his throat. He had absolutely no idea where he was. And his legs were still pinned. He turned his head to the left and came face to face with a pair of intense blue eyes. He started in surprise and then looked down to see why he still couldn't move, only to find Duo's torso resting on his stomach, the young man's arms braced on either side of his chest, violet eyes blinking sleepily up at him.  
  
Wufei looked back to Heero and then to Duo again, confused and more than a little alarmed. Bruises darkened Duo's pale skin, spreading from the left side of his forehead down to his chin. They were from… Oh right. They were from that car that'd run into him. Right on cue, his sword arm stung and he flinched, turning quickly to look at his sweatshirt sleeve where the gauze Heero had taped to him the night before stuck to his skin underneath. Oh right. He'd been shot. He moved his arm a bit and flinched when he felt the bandage stick to his skin; the wound must have continued to bleed while he slept.  
  
He swore softly in Mandarin as his brain finally caught up to what his eyeballs were telling him. Heero smirked and Duo chuckled, voice thick with sleep. "Think you were dreamin', Wu. My pillow was suddenly shaking and making all kinds of crazy noises."  
  
"That's because I was dreaming that someone was suffocating me. I wonder why that could be," he muttered, aiming a glare at the young man leaning over him. Duo didn't appear to be affected in the least. Rubbing one hand through his hair, Wufei winced. "Fuck," he groaned. "I'm sore." He squirmed under Duo's weight. "Pretty much everywhere."  
  
"Me too," they both grumbled.  
  
He ticked off the sources of his discomfort on his fingers. "Nearly smothered by a man who weighed more than twice as much as me, rug burn on the front half of my body, assaulted by at least twenty of Gael's thugs, ran half way across the city, shot at and then shot, and…" He trailed off, glancing quickly at Heero. "You weren't particularly gentle either." He didn't feel like being polite or subtle right then; perhaps because he was beat all to hell. Perhaps because the two delightfully warm bodies curled around him had never been known for their tact or subtlety either.  
  
Heero was blushing furiously and trying very hard not to smile. He pulled his hand free of its place under Duo's sweatshirt and counted. "Pushed around by four horny clients, shot at on two separate occasions, shot once, ran half way across the city, assaulted by at least twenty-five of Gael's thugs, and Chang, you weren't too gentle yourself." He lifted up his many layers to reveal finger-shaped bruises curling around his ribs. Now it was Wufei's turn to blush.  
  
Duo was tugging on Wufei's sweatshirt, bright eyes lit up and eager. "My turn, my turn, my turn." They both looked at him, expectantly. "Oh, I have so got you guys beat." He paused dramatically and then pointed at his purple cheek bone. "Hit by a car!" Wufei snorted and Heero rolled his eyes. "I win, I win, I win. I wiiiiiiin." Violet eyes flew wide and he fell back onto Wufei's chest coughing, holding his ribs tightly. "Oh, ouch. Ouch. No fair. Not only did a car run into me, but I didn't get to have a wild, crazy sex night either." He took a steadying breath and to Wufei's surprise, gave them both a slow, measuring look. "And a wild, crazy sex night probably isn't in my cards until my ribs stop hurting."  
  
Wufei, suddenly very aware of Duo's body pressed flush along his and Heero's a scant distance further than that, felt himself flush hot. Duo was watching him, and when he glanced to his left, he saw that Heero was watching Duo. They both looked hungry. Duo followed Wufei's line of sight and his gaze locked with Heero's, his pale skin flushing pink as his best friend's steady gaze met his. Duo swallowed visibly and quirked a smile. "Right? I mean, no wild and crazy… I should really rest for a day or two at least and get my strength back…" His voice trailed off as Heero leaned closer, lips moving in a soft, barely audible confession.  
  
"Duo, I should have told you years ago. As soon as I knew it, I should have told you. But, I guess I'm glad I didn't, because if I had, the three of us probably wouldn't be here now, like this."  
  
"Should have told me what," Duo breathed.  
  
Wufei watched, captivated, as Heero spoke into Duo's ear, loud enough that they both heard. "That I love you, that I have loved you for years." Wufei's heart thudded loudly in his ears as he waited for Duo's reply. His lover looked at him, eyes wide, breath coming quickly. Then he smiled and took his hand, turning back to Heero, whose lips were only a few centimeters from his.  
  
"Right back atcha, babe." Duo hesitated a moment more, breath fogging in the cold air between them. Then he brought their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Wufei propped himself up on his elbows, keeping hold of Duo's hand. He watched as his two best friends made a silent pact, their long-delayed kiss sealing their friendship as well as the deepening bond between them.  
  
He started in surprised when Heero slowly leaned forward, pushing Duo back against his chest. The dragon tried to shuffle backwards out of the way, but Duo was suddenly clenching his hand in a grip it was clear he had no intention of loosening. So he held still, body screaming with tension as Heero pushed Duo back into him, never once breaking their kiss. Wufei found himself up against the wall with Duo seated between his legs, Heero kneeling in front of them both, still kissing Duo. Heero's hands wandered over his best friend's body, clutching at the fabric of his loose clothing, gently trailing along bruised ribs. Tentatively, Wufei reached the hand that Duo held around the young man's middle, anchoring them together. Almost immediately, Duo pulled his arm tight and held on. Wufei buried his nose in his lover's hair and breathed in his scent. He felt like he had when he woke up, disbelieving and disoriented. He couldn't possibly be here doing this with these two people. He took another deep breath. His nose twitched where Duo's hair tickled him. He was here. He was doing this. He was watching Heero kiss his way down Duo's neck, blue eyes wide open, taking in every bit of skin, every flutter of his heartbeat. Heero explored Duo's body with the eyes of a new lover, eager and greedy and obviously nervous. He watched Heero ask Duo's permission with a shy glance up into his eyes. The young man nodded quickly in reply, carefully shifting his weight down, sliding along Wufei's chest, until he could rest his head on the dragon's shoulder.  
  
Wufei's senses ignited as he realized what was about to happen. He shut his eyes tightly and turned away, again burying his nose in Duo's hair. He felt his lover's hips lift up and heard fabric sliding along skin. He swallowed hard and held Duo tighter, unsure of what to do. He heard Duo hiss and felt his hips lift up again. Desire shot through him in a fierce jolt and he sucked in a quick breath when he heard Heero's mouth on his lover. He squirmed behind Duo and tried to pull away, a knee-jerk reaction he couldn't suppress. But, in a flash, Duo reached around and wrapped his arm around the dragon's neck. He leaned back and met Wufei's gaze, violet eyes wide and unfocused.  
  
"Look at me," he breathed. "Stay here."  
  
Wufei's eyes suddenly stung and his gut clenched at the memory those words brought back: Duo braced over him, inside him, tearing him apart, releasing him from his past, his shame. That had been the beginning. Wufei felt that years had passed since that night, when, really, it had only been a handful of months since his life hand been turned upside-down - or more likely, since Duo had turned it right side-up.  
  
"Kiss me, Wu," Duo whispered. Long fingers wound through his hair and dragged him forward, shoving their mouths together. Wufei heard that sound low in Duo's throat, the sound he'd made when they were together that first time. Like that first time, it made him throb. His lover broke the kiss suddenly and arched his back, eyes dazed. "Jesus Christ," he gasped. Wufei's grip on him tightened, eyes flicking to Heero, who was watching them through the thick fringe of his hair. He sucked hard a few more times and then Wufei saw his throat working quickly as Duo shuddered and clutched at him, hands seeking purchase in hair, blankets and clothing.  
  
Duo sat there propped up against Wufei's chest for several moments, regaining his breath. Then he shuffled to the side and lay down, finally letting go of Wufei's hand. Heero knelt in front of his partner, eyes smoldering. He licked his lips and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Wufei felt like his body was pulsing with need. He felt like his skin was glowing with it.  
  
"Don't get too wild and crazy. Remember the invalid," Duo said faintly, though his mouth was stretched in a wicked grin as he watched them watch each other.  
  
Wufei didn't need a second invitation as he surged forward. With a few sharp, brutal moves, he had Heero on the ground, squirming and writhing beneath him. He held the young man's wrists above his head and said very softly, "What if it had been like this, Yuy? Would you have wanted me like this, if I was top?" Heero bucked against him one more time and then fell still. He glared up at Wufei and smirked tightly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Wufei ground his hips against Heero's, eyes closing at the powerful friction between them. "Good," he hissed as the fire in his gut roared up through his limbs and consumed him.  
  
+  
  
Wufei felt the vibrations of Duo's voice where their bodies touched, mainly in his chest. His lover's long arm circled around him from behind him, his other hand gently trailing through his hair.  
  
"I think we should sleep more," he resolved drowsily, spooning closer to Wufei. On the dragon's other side, Heero grunted noncommittally, rolling onto his back and stretching. Wufei caught a glimpse of smooth, light brown skin, pulled tight against ribs. Because he could, Wufei slid his fingers along that skin, tracing the track of dark hair that disappeared into the young man's sweats. His fingers found a few scars, and he traced those as well. His eyes slid closed, and he felt like he was sinking into a giant feather bed, not laying sprawled on a sleeping bag on top of a freezing cinderblock floor.  
  
"I like that idea," he murmured, lulled by the feel of Duo's fingers in his hair and the feel of Heero's warm skin beneath his own. Heero grunted again and then pulled the sleeping bags back over them. Now cocooned between his two best friends - his lovers - Wufei was asleep in seconds.


	28. (Quatre)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \--------  
> A-N/ Summary: Right, so this chapter is totally chopped up. The narrative is all over the place and out of order. The sequence isn't difficult to figure out, I don't think, and even if it is, the important thing is that it all happens in one night, a few days after the last chapter. I was having trouble with this chapter so I hacked it apart to make it more interesting. This is Quatre's bit of self-discovery. Lemon and Blood!! (though once again not at the same time)

**28\. Quatre**

Scrape your knee; it's only skin   
Makes the sound of violins  
_\- "Only Skin" Joanna Newsom_  
  
Quatre perched motionless on the rooftop, eyes trained on a small square of light across the street, insides seething. It was Wednesday, and that meant he was working, tracking this girl who did in fact look a lot like him, planning her seizure and potentially her death. It was Wednesday, which meant Heero had not contacted Trowa to tell them to get the hell out of their apartment, to head for the police and then the airport. It meant they were off dicking around somewhere while he and Trowa remained with their heads between the lion's jaws.   
  
He tried to calm the bitter resentment roiling in his belly; he tried to keep his head on the job, but he couldn't shake it. He thought of Trowa wishing him luck, standing in the doorway watching him go, finally turning away to pack his own things for work. It was fucking Wednesday and their three flat mates had been gone for four days. Trowa told him that Gael's search for the missing hustlers was still in full, rabid swing. The police as well as dozens of the boss's henchmen were combing the streets of the city, looking everywhere. Until Gael changed strategies or gave up or at least backed off a bit, it was too dangerous for Heero to even try to get to the police station. Quatre believed what Trowa said – he knew that Heero was putting his life on the line for all of them – but... fucking hell, it wasn't fair! He swallowed hard and then shivered in the chill night air.  
  
The girl he watched looked nice – incredibly dangerous, but nice. Quatre could recognize the potential power coiled in those lean muscles even from this distance. She moved about her flat, pulling on tight-fitting black clothing as she went from her bedroom to her bathroom and back. He watched her slide a knife into her boot and he almost shuddered. She pulled her bright hair into a spiky knot at the back of her head. When she strapped on a katana similar to Wufei's, Quatre gave in and let a quiver of admiration and apprehension work it's way up his spine. He already knew from the photos he'd seen as well as the small bit of reconnaissance he'd already done that she was a fearsome creature, but the thought of actually engaging her in a fight, the thought of subduing her... he had a sinking feeling he was out of his league.   
  
She made no attempt to conceal her weapon, probably because no one would see her, let alone _it._ She opened her window and climbed out onto her fire escape, gloved fingers clutching the metal railing. Pale eyes swept the cityscape and then the ground as she swiftly descended the metal staircase. Quatre slid from the shadows and began the climb down as well.   
  
+  
  
"Quatre, I think you should take this with you." He turned in his preparation to see Trowa walking toward him, holding something heavy and solid wrapped in gray cloth. He looked down at it and then up into Trowa's intense gaze. Then he finished pulling his black turtleneck sweater down over the many layers he'd stacked underneath it. He'd need every one of them tonight.   
  
"What is that?" he asked quietly.  
  
"It's mine. Was mine. I haven't used it in several years. My first employer gave it to me."  
  
Quatre hesitated and then reached out to take the gun. He left it wrapped in the cloth and hefted it gently, testing its weight. He started to hand it back to Trowa, shaking his head. "I don't want it. I've never shot this gun before. I shouldn't-"  
  
Trowa backed away, refusing to take it. "Please, Quatre. From the little you've said about your job tonight... I think that you should have it."  
  
Quatre raised his chin and took a breath. "What do you know about it? Do you think I won't be able to handle her?"  
  
Trowa smiled sadly at him and Quatre's bravado slipped a hair. "And I've seen your surveillance photos."  
  
He automatically puffed himself up. "You shouldn't be looking through my things. The jobs that Gael sends me are strictly confidential; it's not safe for you to know about them." But Trowa was still smiling at him with that slightly infuriating, 'I've seen all this before and far more frequently than you' look in his eyes. Quatre felt himself deflate.   
  
"She carries a sword similar to Wufei's. If you have to fight her – unless you can hit her from a distance – you'll have to get close to take her out with one of your knives. With that sword, she can keep you at a distance which will make that very difficult for you. You need a blade of similar length and since Wufei has his with him and you haven't trained with it anyway, I think that you should take my gun."  
  
Quatre examined his best friend closely, saw the man's thinly concealed concern for him behind the flat words, saw the way green eyes rested on the scar in the corner of his mouth, saw his careful, guarded posture. Quatre turned away quickly and reached for a stick of licorice. He turned back and, chewing it thoughtfully, he nodded once. "Okay."  
  
Trowa breathed out in relief and then went to his closet to pull out a weathered shoulder holster. He approached Quatre warily and then closed the distance between them when the hunter gave him a small nod of permission. He helped fit the holster to Quatre's smaller frame, adjusting the straps and tightening a buckle, his voice soft in Quatre's ear. "The gun's not registered, so keep your gloves on if you can. And wipe off the prints if you have to touch it. If you have to ditch it, try to put it somewhere no one will ever find it. I don't mind never seeing this gun again."  
  
Quatre turned slightly amused eyes on his best friend. "Someday you'll have to tell me more about what you did before you worked for Gael."  
  
Trowa regarded him soberly. "I probably won't." Quatre blinked and then looked away. "Just worry about yourself tonight. Do not at any point underestimate your target. It'd be best for both of you if you didn't end up having to kill her."  
  
Quatre puffed himself back up a little. "Well, obviously. But hey, have a little faith in the trained bounty hunter."  
  
Trowa's expression remained blank.   
  
+  
  
His nostrils flared as he pressed his foot down on her chest and fired three rounds. Her body jerked and went still. The smell of gun smoke and blood assailed his nose and he snorted like a dog, trying to ride himself of the harsh scent. His breath came in sharp gasps as he stood over her body and swallowed the sick taste in his mouth. Her mouth was smiling up at him, her beautiful face peaceful and bloody. She'd asked him to end it and he'd said no. He'd said there were other ways to finish it. She'd asked him again and he'd still said no. Then she'd tried to kill him and he'd had to.   
  
He removed his boot from her still chest and slid Trowa's gun into the holster hugging his ribs. He dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. Her skin was hot and living, but the blood was slowing down. He felt pressure on his fingers, once, twice and then nothing. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as he pulled her up into a sitting position, ignoring the blood dripping down from her hairline. He ran his fingers through that bright hair, straightening it and removing street dirt. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead and shut his eyes tight.  
  
"I hope your journey is swift and that you do not look back," he said softly.  
  
He felt wetness on his cheeks and found with surprise and relief that he was crying. These were the first tears he'd shed since he'd found out about his illness, the first tears since he'd started his new job. This girl was the third person he'd killed for Gael and the first for whom he felt he could mourn. He tightened his grip on her and let a harsh sob rip through him. It felt good and it eased some of the tightness in his chest as his sorrow hiccuped through his lungs, finally jostled loose. He clutched her shirt in gloved fingers and wiped his dripping nose on her shoulder.   
  
Then he raised his head and reminded himself that he had to get home because Trowa was waiting for him. He cast about, looking over his shoulder for the materials he needed, spotting a stack of newspapers still tied together against a wall. Beside that he saw a pile of weathered and broken pallets and his mouth pressed into a tight smile. He gently pillowed her head on his bag and went to fetch them, glad to find it all dry and brittle. There hadn't been much snow this winter to dampen them. On his way back to her side, he passed a man hunched in a doorway, drinking from a bottle in a bag. Pausing, he offered the man all the money in his pockets in exchange for the liquor and his silence. It was enough to get him a night in a motel, so the man took the money with a grunt of thanks and fearful look at the gun at his side, handing over the bottle and quickly shuffling away. Quatre took it with a tight smile and took a sniff. He immediately forced the air back out of his nose. Cheap 80 proof whiskey. He returned to her body and knelt down beside her, preparing a pyre of brittle paper, wood and liquor.   
  
When he finished his preparations, he pulled a book of matches from his bag and leaned down to kiss her cheek, tasting the bitter liquid he'd spread over her. He lit the pyre and disappeared into the shadows, her sword strapped to his back along with his knives.   
  
As he walked, her words flickered through his mind in short phrases, her voice sharp and judgmental. Though they'd only known each other for a scant few hours, she'd felt entitled to ridicule him, taunt him, comfort him and advise him on his love life, or awkward lack thereof. Now as he heard her voice in his head, he found his feet hitting the pavement faster and faster. He was jogging and then he was running and then he was sprinting toward home. He ran because Trowa was waiting for him. Quatre decided he'd been waiting long enough.  
  
+  
  
A slender body flickered through the beam the flashlight cast and Quatre found himself shoved awkwardly up against the fire escape, a fist in his sweater, pressing against his throat, a knife – probably the one from her boot, he thought uselessly – pressed against his ear. His neck bent uncomfortably under the grated platform, but his right arm was still somewhat mobile and he had his knife pressed firmly at her throat. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her breath and he knew she was staring at him with wide blue eyes. He could feel her gaze even in the dark and it made him very nervous.   
  
"We could kill each other," he managed to wheeze around the fist in his throat.  
  
"Correction. I could stick this in your ear and you would die. I would walk away."  
  
"Please don't do that."  
  
"Why not," she said flatly. Her words were succinct and hard. She was American he realized. Gael had failed to specify that in the dossier.   
  
"I'm not here to hurt you." He'd used up all his breath and he couldn't draw another, so he fell silent and hoped that was convincing enough.  
  
"You couldn't hurt me, but I think you intended to."  
  
He wanted to say something rude, but couldn't so he made a small gurgling sound instead. He still had the knife pressed against her throat, though she didn't seem to care. But he thought perhaps if he lowered it...   
  
"Who are you?" she demanded.  
  
He gurgled again, and even though he couldn't see much, his vision still went noticeably screwy. He lowered his knife and then found himself on the ground, sucking in a breath and looking up at the woman standing over him. He blinked in the sudden brightness of the flashlight in his eyes. She had her knife in the other hand, but held it in a fist now resting on her hip. He could just barely make out her expression and it was one of utter shock. Quatre rubbed his throat and croaked. "What."  
  
"You," she said softly. "I know you. You're the Winner kid, and you're not dead. You are very obviously not dead."  
  
Quatre scratched his head through his hat. "Should I know you?"  
  
She barked a laugh. "No, definitely, absolutely not. But you're famous, at least to us poor folk who hope to make it rich some day. You're our prince."  
  
She was mocking him, clearly. "I do know something about you; you're name's Olean. It's a pretty name."  
  
"It's short for Oleander, and it's not my real name."  
  
"Oh. What's your real name?"  
  
"What do you call your lover when she gives you a BJ?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"If we're getting personal."  
  
He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed.   
  
She grinned at him in the strange glow cast by the flashlight. Her teeth flashed; one of them, a canine, was crooked, he noticed. "It's very interesting that you're not dead, Quatre."  
  
"... I guess."   
  
"It's just that you've been missing for, like, almost a year. And my boss thought about trying to find you just to pick up that reward money from your big sisters. Seems you disappeared but good, though, 'cause he wasn't ever successful. He, like the rest of the city, thought you were dead."  
  
"I was pretty well hidden."  
  
"Clearly. What've you been up to?"  
  
He took a breath and decided to just tell her. Not like she'd believe him. "Sex worker."  
  
She regarded him soberly, blue eyes traveling up and down his frame. "Is'at so."  
  
"It is."   
  
"That's a rough business." Maybe she did believe him.  
  
"Yes. I didn't like it very much."  
  
"Didn't like fucking dudes?"  
  
"It wasn't that they were dudes that was problem." His mouth said the word 'dudes,' and he almost laughed at the way it sounded coming from him.  
  
"Ah," she said, nodding wisely. "I guess a more appropriate question would have been, 'what do you call your lover when _he_ gives you a BJ?'"  
  
"I don't call him anything because we've never-" He shook his head sharply. "And you are doing an excellent job of distracting me. I did not come here to talk about my completely screwed up love life. I came to ask that you come with me. My employer requests your presence at his mansion."  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, well that sounds like lots of fun." She paused. "Not."  
  
Again, his eyes narrowed. "What are you, six?"  
  
"What's with the personal questions, Q? The way I see it, you don't get to ask me questions."  
  
He scowled. "And why's that?"  
  
The dim glow of the flashlight abruptly blinked out and he felt her weight pressing on him, felt her very sharp blade pressed against his throat. He felt his skin split, felt warmth dripping down the side of neck. He gasped and panicked, his knee surging upward into her gut. It was a stupid reaction and he knew it. She could have easily sliced him open completely; however, she only grunted sharply and rolled away. Clutching his throat, Quatre scrambled to his feet, knife out in front of him.   
  
"I don't what to hurt you, but I have to take you to see my boss." He couldn't see more than her dim silhouette in the dark alley. "I'm not a sex worker anymore because I got sick and now I work as a hunter... like you. That's what I'm here for. He wants to see you; I don't know why, but if you don't come with me... Well, you just have to." She stayed hunched on the ground. "I'm not afraid of you. You could kill me, and I'm not afraid of that either."  
  
"Well, that's a shame," she said quietly, voice a bit shaky. Had he really hurt her with his knee?  
  
"Which part?"  
  
"All of it. I don't want to meet your boss. The fact that he has someone like you chasing after people with sharp objects leads me to believe that he's not a very nice guy. And the fact that you aren't afraid to die. You're just a kid. What would your lover say if you ended up dead?"  
  
Quatre flinched because it was dark and she couldn't see him do it. "He wouldn't say anything."  
  
"But he would mourn your death. He would be sad."  
  
Quatre swallowed. "Yes."  
  
"So let's go out where there's more light and see what there is to see, okay?"  
  
She stood in front of him, a large strong hand extended to touch his bloody throat. He didn't flinch as her fingers ran along the cut. It'd already clotted, but her fingers came away rusty. In the light of the street lamps she looked like a rumpled pale child – probably very much like him. "You're cute," she finally said with a crooked smile. "He's lucky to have you."  
  
Quatre found himself blushing, even though he knew she was just stalling. "He doesn't really... I turned him away. He should have someone better than me, someone whole."  
  
She withdrew her hand and waved it dismissively in front of her nose. "Oh, pshh. Quit being so melodramatic. "  
  
His brow twitched. Enough stalling  
  
"So are you coming with me? We should really be going; it's cold out here."  
  
Her casual air faltered slightly. "Maybe. I might go with you. What happens if I don't? I have work to do. As I'm sure you know, I have a job tonight."  
  
He considered his answer, arms loose and ready at his sides. "Well, I see four options. Would you like to know the four options?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"You come with me; I take you to my boss and we part ways. I never see you again. That's the first one. The second is you refuse and I fight you until you give up and agree to come with me."   
  
She snorted, muttering, "Right."  
  
"Third, we fight and I kill you and take your body to my boss. He informed me that was an acceptable outcome, by the way."  
  
Another snort. "As if you could." Then she tapped a finger against her chin. "I don't like that option."  
  
"Fourth. We fight and you kill me and go free, until he sends someone else to bring you to him. You could kill that person too. He has lots of people on the payroll."  
  
She looked away and he thought he saw a subtle shudder slide along her shoulders. "I like that one least of all," she murmured. The corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm rooting for this lover of yours. I'd hate for him to have a dead body on his hands. I'd hate for you to miss the opportunity to take him back, to make him yours again."  
  
He watched her warily, not at all sure how to interpret her strange comments. "So, what do we do?" he asked finally.   
  
She looked up at the sky, the clouds heavy with snow that didn't want to fall. She stared up at them, their undersides eerily lit up by the street lamps. When she looked back at him, she was grinning like a wolf. It frightened him in its ferocity. "Well, options one and two are out."  
  
His heart sank.   
  
"Let's see where we get with three and four."   
  
+  
  
He pounded through the front door of the building and headed straight for the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. He thought of Trowa sitting in his armchair, reading a book, hair flopped in his eyes, long legs stretched out in front him, posture at once casual and capable of swift and deadly motion. His mind jumped ahead a few frames as he pictured himself coming through the door and trapping his lover in the chair, an arm on either side of him, a knee between his legs, a soft whispered confession of his sadness and love in Trowa's ear. "Forgive me, Trowa, for I have sinned. Please accept me and what I have; it's yours."   
  
He ran up the last flight of stairs, blind in his eagerness. He didn't notice that the door wasn't locked. He didn't see Trowa's wide eyes and alarmed expression for what they were. He shrugged off the girl's sword and tossed his knives on the couch. He cornered Trowa in the chair, just as he pictured it. He wrapped his arms around his lover's neck and begged his forgiveness. "Forgive me, Trowa. I've been so stupid and frightened." He thought that the feel of those strong arms coming up around his ribs was probably the best thing he'd ever experienced; it might as well have been his first embrace.   
  
"Sshh," Trowa soothed him, rubbing small circles on his back. "Don't speak," he murmured. An odd request, but Quatre nodded, eyes closed. "You're alright?" He nodded again. "The girl is dead isn't she." And again. "I'm sorry. But I'm glad you're alive."  
  
"She said you would be," Quatre whispered.   
  
Trowa held him tightly, arms wrapped all the way around him, as though someone were about to try to take him away. He turned his head to the side, nose against Trowa's jaw, his senses finally picking up on the off-ness in the room. "What's the matter?"  
  
Trowa shook his head slightly.  
  
"Did you hear from H-" Before he could finish, Trowa's eyes widened and he wrenched him into a hard kiss that thoroughly silenced him. Trowa's tongue was in his mouth, pressing insistently. Something was wrong. He pulled away and glanced quickly around the flat. It felt off... someone had been... He turned wide blue eyes on Trowa. "They're here, aren't they."  
  
Trowa nodded and then cleared his throat. "There's been a change of plans. Gael wants us to stay with him for awhile – draw the others out that way instead of the police combing the city." At his words, several men emerged from shadowy doorways, faces blank, but hands ready.   
  
Quatre shook his head. "No, I don't want to go with them." His hand drifted toward the gun still tucked under his arm, but Trowa grabbed his wrist and shook his head quickly, no.  
  
"It'll be okay. We'll be okay."  
  
+  
  
"You could come with us!" he shouted. "Olean, we don't have to do this; you could run with us. Or you could just run."  
  
She gave a wordless cry and came at him again. His strength was leaving him; he was losing. He brought his blade up again and it felt heavy in his hands. His fingers were numb from the many times she'd struck at him, katana glinting and slicing at his throat, his chest, his gut, his back, his hamstrings. He'd blocked them all. He'd tried to get her to stop, but she was ruthless, and she was way out of his league. He should have been dead by now, dead many times over. She was holding back just a little, but striking with enough deadly intent to make him fight with everything he had.   
  
His tired muscles dodged automatically as the blade flicked forward, and he dropped low and to the side, knife darting up into a space she left wide open for him. It was only after the blade slid between her ribs that he realized it.   
  
"No!" he shouted, pulling the blade free and dropping it instantly. She staggered and wrapped her arm around her side. "Pick it up," she said firmly. He shook his head, dazed.  
  
"I'll take you to a hospital and then I'll take you to the airport and you can run."  
  
"Pick it up. I'm not like you."  
  
"Sure you are; you're _just_ like me. Which is why I won't do this; I'm not going to do this." She came at him again, sword glinting in the dim light.  
  
It went on like this until she collapsed and he shouted his helpless anger at her. "Idiot! Throwing your life away! There are other options!"  
  
She shook her head, breathing labored. "I'm not like you. This is all I've ever had, and your boss wants to take it away from me? He can go fuck himself."  
  
"My sentiments exactly! We can help each other."  
  
She smiled up at him. "Take my sword and give it to him. He knows I'd never give it up. It'll be your proof."  
  
He dropped to his knees beside her and pressed his hand to the wound in her side. "Olean... "  
  
"My name's Louise," she blurted and then winced, some instinctive fear of death taking hold. Panic crept briefly into her eyes before Quatre saw it resolutely smothered.   
  
He took a steadying breath, finally seeing the plain truth before him. "Okay." He smiled reassuringly, running his hand through her hair. "Louise, his name is Trowa."  
  
"Trowa," she said carefully, tasting the name. "That's nice."  
  
"And if he ever gives me a-" She cleared her throat and cocked her head to the side, giving him a look. Quatre forced a laugh. _"When_ he gives me a blow job, I think I'll call him Sparky because he'll look at me while he's doing it and his eyes will-"  
  
"Okay, okay, whoa, that's enough," she said weakly.   
  
"Okay." He rose to his feet and quickly drew Trowa's gun. Then he took a step forward, placing his foot firmly on her chest. She closed her eyes and managed to smile.  
  
+  
  
The heavy silence and the unfamiliar setting lent their lovemaking an air of urgency. The door had no lock; the walls were probably thin; there were men guarding their room. They had to be swift and quiet. Quatre braced himself against the wall and pushed back as Trowa drove quickly into him. They were both sweating, though the room was cool. He felt it trickling from under his arms and along his spine. Trowa leaned forward, kissing him, biting his lip. He tasted it on his lover's tongue.   
  
This wasn't how he originally pictured it happening – rushed and secretive and him still stinking of death. But Trowa hadn't said no, hadn't said anything really, just nodded and pushed Quatre back into the shadows, pushed him down into the space between dresser and bed, sheltered just a bit from the unlocked door. It wasn't how he pictured it between them, but it was still nearly perfect.  
  
One leg wrapped around his lover's waist, the other bent, his foot flat on the floor, Quatre ruthlessly pushed down his panic and his fear. The condom wouldn't break. Even if it did, the disease was only transferred by blood. And there'd have to be a lot of blood. And there wouldn't be because this wouldn't be like the last time. This was Trowa and Trowa would never ever hurt him. This was safe.   
  
He almost laughed. They was not safe. They were in Gael's compound, under guard. They were bait for Heero and the others. They were not safe at all.   
  
But they were safe with each other. Trowa knew sex better than anyone. They both knew how to be safe. This was good; they'd be fine if-  
  
"Stay with me, mon petite." Trowa murmured, hand wrapping firmly around Quatre's erection. The boy gasped and swallowed a groan. "Focus on how this feels. Don't be afraid. We're safe."  
  
His soft words continued, whispered assurances in his ear. Quatre clung to them and repeated them until they drowned out the fearful buzzing in his head, until all he could see and feel and hear was Trowa. In the dark room, there was nothing else.  
  
"I'm sorry I made you, made us, wait for this. I've wanted to, but I was frightened of what could happen. I trusted you, I swear, but-"  
  
Another kiss silenced him. His words were meaningless anyway. He did what Trowa told him and focused on the way it felt. Trowa inside him, solid and real and careful and sure. A warm smooth palm touching him, bringing his pleasure out of him in small gasps and moans. An aching, fluttering pressure growing in his belly, threatening to blind him when Trowa pressed... right there.   
  
"Trowa, I'm... "  
  
The Frenchman swore softly in his native language and Quatre couldn't quite catch what he said, but he suddenly felt his lover tense, hips jerking forward. He realized what was happening and the sight of his lover – eyes open wide and staring, hair pushed aside, sweaty, grip tightening on his thigh – tossed him right over the edge. He wrapped his fingers around the back of Trowa's neck and dragged him down into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. He moaned, the sound high-pitched and breathless in his ears.   
  
Then it was over and they lay together, winded and sticking to each other. Quatre ran his fingers through Trowa's hair, ran his knuckles along his cheekbones, and brushed his thumbs over his temples.   
  
They didn't speak as they cleaned up in their small bathroom, but Quatre shivered as Trowa gently wiped away the mess on his stomach with a warm washcloth. They hadn't turned on the light, so he could only just make out their silhouettes in the mirror.   
  
Exhausted, they pulled all the blankets off the beds and piled them on the floor. Then they wrapped themselves inside until they were tangled up in a nest of fabric and limbs. They fell asleep with Quatre's knives in easy reach.


	29. Jeopardy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \---------  
> A-N/ Summary: Harsh words and cruel deeds. 1x2x5

**29a. Wufei**  
  
Did you know you would last this long?  
You made it to the dawn   
Now you're gone   
You are gone  
_-Dirty Three_  
  
Wufei stretched his tired and sore muscles in the ancient forms he'd learned shortly after he learned to walk. Hands push out, slide leg forward, slow movement through a series of blocks, finger placement precise, breathing slow and deep. These motions were his center, his meditation. They were his base. Without them, there was only a constant roar of emotions that would lead him astray, down a twisted path of irrationality and madness. His forms drew him back into the cycle of breathing and movement and careful meditation. He stretched his sore muscles and thought very carefully about the events of the last five days.   
  
They'd been a blur of cold sleepless nights, gray mornings waking bleary-eyed to find himself wrapped around one or the other or both of his lovers, muscles stiff from the cold and the hard floor. Even though they'd scrounged up some old foam from someone else's long-abandoned squat, Wufei's body wasn't used to the rough treatment. Nor was he used to the freezing trek outside to relieve himself and brush his teeth. He wasn't used to the cold, prepackaged food or the canned soup heated up on their tiny cook stove. It left him feeling lethargic and undernourished. He wanted vitamin C and protein. And no more salt. They had money. They could go to a restaurant, or even a hostel for a night or two, but Heero said it was too dangerous to venture past Downtown. Wufei couldn't even go running. Only Duo emerged from the decrepit shell of the city to buy water and more prepackaged food. Wufei recognized Duo's ability to essentially disappear at the first sign of danger – he knew Duo was the best choice among the three of them. When he returned from these brief excursions, it was to tell them that the city was crawling with cops as well as Gael's men. All of their old haunts were covered… the parks, the library, the gym, the few bars and restaurants they frequented. But most disturbing of all, their home appeared to be empty. Wufei hadn't asked how Duo was able to ascertain this, but he trusted his lover's assessment: Trowa and Quatre were not there.   
  
Duo told them this last night. As far as Wufei was concerned, that was the breaking point. They'd either made a run for it or Gael had them. Or they were dead.  
  
Wufei shook his head sharply and started his form over again, clearing his head. For about ten seconds.  
  
Heero had been furious, but also fearful. His face had gone blank and he'd disappeared to another part of the factory. Duo had looked at Wufei with large worried eyes. "He's blaming himself."  
  
"Of course he is."   
  
They'd spent an hour looking for him, found him in a small dusty room, staring at the black screen of his laptop. The battery had died days ago. Heero had looked up at them like a lost child and said, his voice barely audible, "I don't know what I'm doing. I never did. I'm going to get us all killed."  
  
This admission – while Wufei knew it to be largely false – had ignited his anger like nothing else. Duo'd had to pry them apart and the ensuing tussle had resulted in some of the most aggressive and brutal sex he'd ever had. However, they'd all admitted that they felt better after relieving a bit of tension.   
  
Hence his sore muscles and his desperate need for a little space and solitude. Sex was not an outlet for Wufei. Physical exertion and meditation had always fulfilled that role. But in the days since the three of them had more or less sorted out their feelings and needs, sex seemed like all they had. If Duo wasn't out scavenging for food and information and Heero wasn't pacing or cursing at his dead laptop and Wufei wasn't fighting phantom enemies, drilling his body ruthlessly, then they were busy making up for lost time, fucking each other's brains out, and generally denying the fact that two of their best friends were stuck in the lion's den while they were stuck out in the cold.   
  
In his nineteen years of living, Wufei had never felt so emotionally ravaged or fulfilled. He was wanted and needed. He had both Duo and Heero _with_ him in every sense of the word. And yet they were paralyzed and none of them were sure what they should do next. Ever the mediator, the negotiator, the one among them who could smooth things over no matter what, Duo found himself needing to keep Wufei and Heero from ripping each other to pieces on a daily basis. Probably closer to three times a day. Wufei knew this about himself and Heero. And he knew that it wasn't fair for Duo, always the one to soften harsh words or step between dangerous glares. He knew Duo dealt with it the only way he thought he could, by offering himself up to their anger and frustration. Yet it still struck him as odd and slightly disturbing that his way was sex.   
  
But it shouldn't have, he supposed, because Duo had lived his entire life adapting and bending over backward and contorting his body into whatever shape was needed for survival. When he was a kid, smaller than most, with a braid that made him a target, it meant learning to disappear. When he was a little older, it meant learning to fight – both dirty and clean. Now, it meant using the skill he'd cultivated over the last two years.   
  
And for some reason, this bothered Wufei. It pissed him off. As he moved from his stretches into the first dozen forms taught to him by his father, he realized he knew the reason. He wasn't sure he trusted sex with Duo. He trusted Duo, absolutely. But sex was… it was Duo's labor, it was what he sold. Heero had tried to reassure him, had in fact scolded him for thinking that Duo took sex lightly, had said that if Duo had chosen Wufei, then they were together. They were _with_ each other. But…Wufei had been trained from the very beginning that the proof of anything lay with the sword. Bonds were not forged between two bodies coupling. Sex didn't establish anything. A solid strength at his back during a fight, a glinting blade fighting with him and for him… that was what counted.  
  
And he had that with Duo. They'd proven their bond in that insane flight through the city streets. It was there between them right then. And really, it'd been there that first night with Ralph, though that had been… it'd all started when they'd first had sex. But it wasn't just about that! Wufei angrily punched the air, torso bending, leg scything outward, `swishing' audibly. It was about living through that ordeal with their honor in tact. That night had been a sort of battle. So why did sex have to come into it again and again? Was that what proved their bond for Duo? Did he need that?  
  
Voices that he thought long gone began to question him, forcing him to interrogate his own feelings for his two best friends. He didn't want to still worry about this shit. His clan had fucked him up more than set him straight. He was an emotional disaster because of them, because he couldn't seem to square what he so clearly wanted with what he'd been taught he _should_ want.   
  
And now he could hear them fucking. They'd obviously woken up and now he could hear Duo. When he listened carefully, he found Heero's voice underneath it, throaty and muffled. Duo's voice was harsh and almost child-like right before he came. When he wasn't putting on a performance for a client, Duo sounded…  
  
He shook his head again and focused on the intricate movements of his fists and palms. His heel struck the floor, torso twisted, double punch. They needed to get out of here soon. He was going crazy.   
  
He removed another layer as his exercises heated his blood and muscles. Picking up his sword, he began the next set of forms. He didn't hear Duo climb the stairs, but he knew the young man was leaning in the doorway watching him. Trying not to let this fact disrupt his concentration, he continued the swift and deadly combinations of thrust, parry, dodge, spin, thrust. He just barely caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned, blade raised to block Duo's blindingly quick attack.   
  
"What are you-" He shut his mouth with a snap, realizing immediately that he could not afford to be distracted by words. Duo's beautiful short sword snuck all around him, probing for weakness, his lover's eyes doing the same. He was grinning, face flushed with excitement and good humor. As they sparred, Wufei watched with a practiced eye the young man's fighting style with a blade. He immediately found it inferior to his own, but only insofar as it had no definable form. Wufei recognized many of his movements as steps that he knew well, but they were not in any sort of-  
  
His eyes widened as Duo dropped low, and swept one long leg along the dusty floor, attempting to trip him. He stumbled back, just barely keeping his balance. Duo came at him immediately, laughing. "I almost got you, lover," he said a bit breathlessly.   
  
Wufei saw the immediate future open up in front of him. He saw their sparring continuing down this path of lightheartedness and laughing. And he saw the frustration and unease he'd been feeling all morning overtaking his muscles and twisting his face into a mask of spite. He stood at this split in the road for another moment and then, stepping back into a defensive stance, beckoned Duo with a flick of his fingers and a small smirk.   
  
Their pace increased and Wufei could see the unease in Duo's eyes growing as he drove him back. His pale skin flushed pink and his fading bruises stood out in sharp contrast as he struggled to defend himself against the dragon's swift strikes. He spun out of the way, braid flying out behind him. It was too easy an opening to take. Wufei's blade just barely missed the rope of hair. It would have been so easy to cut it off. Instead he grabbed it and tugged sharply, almost upsetting Duo's careful balance. His lover whirled on him, pale features darkening with the beginnings of anger.   
  
"I think we should probably stop, Wu," he said softly, voice dangerous. "We shouldn't get mean."  
  
Wufei felt the sudden and ugly need to prove his superiority in this one aspect of his life. This fight between friends now represented the war he'd been waging within his soul since Duo had first drawn him into an existence radically different from the one he'd lead. The outcome had never really be determined. He wanted to have a place in Duo and Heero's world, but he also felt the fierce need to defend this last bastion of his old life.  
  
Duo didn't belong in this world of precise and ancient fighting ability. He belonged in the dark, nothing more than a shadow with a switchblade. Wufei was supposed to tread the righteous and straight path of the warrior. He was supposed to be made of stone inside and out. Duo was unbreakable too, but only because he could bend in half without snapping. He did whatever he had to, compromised himself in any way he saw fit, so that he could survive. Wufei was not like that. He couldn't be like that, as much as he respected Duo for it. As much as he wanted to be a part of Heero and Duo's world, there was a stubborn weight in his chest and a buzzing hornets nest of voices in his head telling him that he could never live the way they did, do the kinds of things they'd done. The voice of his clan told him to be proud of this fact, to be glad that he was different. He didn't want to be different. He wanted – god, he wanted _everything_ they could give him. He wanted them to be unbreakable together, but he couldn't shake the fact that it … that he _knew_ he was wrong to want it.  
  
He surged forward and finally snapped.   
  
"We shouldn't be doing this! You shouldn't have this!" He snatched the blade from frozen fingers and then threw it and his katana to the ground, the point of Duo's short sword sticking in the wood floor and swaying back and forth. "Why are you _like_ this, Duo? This fighting is not for you; why are you trying to be something you're not?"  
  
His lover stood perfectly still, violet eyes regarding him with alarm and confusion. "What do you mean?" His voice was low, and despite his uncertainty, there was a threat in his tone. Wufei heard it and felt the air between them shifting. Good.  
  
"You think you can just pick up that sword and fight me on some terms that you've decided are appropriate? You don't know _anything_ about it. Fucking a guy for a few lessons doesn't mean that you're- that you can just…" He lost his train of thought watching Duo's expression go from one of alarm to deep hurt and then to fiery anger. His violet eyes turned to agate and he took a step forward. Wufei saw Heero in the doorway, eyes narrowed. His lover glanced between them in confusion, trying to gauge the tension.  
  
"It doesn't mean that you _get_ what I have lived through to make it here – to be here with you." He glanced again at Heero. He pointed an accusatory finger. "He thinks that we're stronger together, that we're unbreakable. We're not. Neither you nor he know what's right, what we're supposed to do. What if I _know_ this is wrong, if we're weak for relying on each other like we do? What if this strength we're supposed to have together is really just… What if we're _wrong?"_ He said it again and felt himself losing his grip on what exactly was at stake here. His words were just as sharp as his blade and he could see them cutting Duo deeply. His lover was withdrawing, arms hugging himself. Wufei imagined it was because he'd cut too deep.  
  
"Chang…" Heero was quickly striding toward him and Duo was now backing away.  
  
"Stay the fuck away from me, Yuy" Wufei snarled, switchblade out and open in his palm before he could think about it. Heero stopped cold, looking at the blade with surprised eyes. Wufei looked at it, too, and somewhere inside he was amazed that he'd just threatened his partner and lover with a weapon that could injure, that could kill. He looked back up at the two young men before him – one pale and bruised, the other dark and scarred – and knew that they were both his if he wanted them. And he was theirs if he just dropped the knife, if he just apologized and begged them to forgive his twisted, tortured mind for spewing such poisoned words. They weren't his words. They were eighteen years of unflinching discipline, of rigid upbringing. They were six years of therapists and doctors and clan elders telling him that he was… wrong.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said thickly. "I don't think I can do this. I'm not like you – I can't just-"  
  
His vision was suddenly filled with coarse dark hair and a snarling mouth as Heero twisted the knife from numb fingers and shoved him backwards. He welcomed the confrontation, went down under that ferocious body and fought back with every scrap of vitriol he had left. But he fought with relief, wanting Heero to pound some sense into him, to thump his head against the floor and call him a moron and then kiss him until he couldn't breath. He wanted it and hated himself for wanting it.   
  
His voice grew hoarse with shouting and he tasted blood. His gut burned where Heero's knee had slammed him ruthlessly into the floor. His knuckles stung and the back of his head hurt. He didn't know when Heero's fists had finally opened, when those arms that were weapons had stopped shoving and punching, but Wufei found himself held down tightly, a heaving chest pressed against his own, a firm mouth pressed to his temple. He found himself holding onto Heero as his breath whistled through his lungs. He gripped solid muscle and turned his stinging eyes into Heero's lips, felt an impossibly gentle pressure on his lids.   
  
"You okay?" those lips murmured against his skin.  
  
"No," he gritted, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "Fuck." He swallowed hard and felt himself shaking just slightly. "Heero, what I said to Duo – I keep fucking it up. I don't know how to-"  
  
"Shut up, Chang," Heero said softly. "You flipped out. I know why you did, and Duo will figure it out. Just be still for a minute."  
  
Wufei took a shuddering breath and tried to gather his fragmented thoughts. And then he realized. "Heero, I haven't told him what I told you." He whispered this, not wanting Duo to hear. "He doesn't know about my clan or Meiran. He doesn't why I'm – like this."  
  
"He's not here, Chang. You can tell him later."  
  
Black eyes snapped open and darted around the cavernous room. "Where is he? Where did he go?"  
  
"He's gone. He ran away. But he'll be back. Don't worry."  
  
  
**29b. Duo**  
  
One o' them bullets went straight for the jugular vein  
_\- Patty Griffin "Not Alone"_  
  
His feet pounded against the pavement; he didn't care if anyone heard him coming. His braid slapped heavily against his back, swaying from side to side; he didn't care if anyone recognized him. He could run faster than them all; he could disappear like a ghost; he didn't even exist. He dared them to come after him; his hands needed to grab and break and crush. He wanted to pick a fight with the first punk who looked at him funny and, had he been only a few years younger, he would have done it. "Lookin' at my braid? Think it makes me look like a woman? Am I less of a man because of it?" Four bloody knuckles and a loose tooth later and he'd feel a hundred times better.  
  
He had different weapons now. But they were just as deadly. That kid there, looking him over with a belligerent sneer. Probably thinking he was a fag. "Look at those skinny limbs and that braid. Must be easy." Their fight played out in Duo's mind even as he ran past without giving the kid another look.   
  
`I could have you flat on your back, knees by your ears, begging, in under three minutes. It'd happen so fast that your dick wouldn't know what to do with itself.'  
  
Duo smirked to himself and felt no better. There were hundreds of men in this city who'd do pretty much anything for him. He had them all, even if they thought that beating him around a little meant they had the power. The bruisers and the gentle, affectionate men… they were all the same. They were his. His weapons worked differently than Heero and Wufei's, but they were just as brutal because his victims could not see his brutality until they were already exposed and vulnerable to it. Every john he'd ever had – their emotions were silken spidery threads wrapped around his fist. One cruel twist and they were broken men.  
  
Lucky for them all Duo was not a cruel person. Most of the time. Lucky for them all, Duo did not try to break his clients like many of them tried to break him.   
  
But some still ended up fractured.   
  
Wufei's fearful and angry words crackled through his brain, alive and sharp. The bright panic in his lover's eyes and his rigid posture cut deeply.   
  
Duo was not now nor had he ever been ashamed of his past or of what he'd become. Not ever. No one could break him because he was made of some composite never seen by another soul – blood and bone, sure, but also motor oil and broken glass and dirty hair and rubber bands. He could look like some pale angel, but inside he was dark and sinuous. He could mold himself into whatever anyone wanted to see. He was fiercely proud of this ability. He'd lived to be twenty years old because of it.   
  
This ability lead him to believe that he could be someone's lover, too, if he wanted. And, God, did he want. He wanted to be Wufei's lover. And Heero's. It felt _so good_ to want them. The fact that they wanted him too should have made it all easier. But again and again, he found himself begging or praying, to whomever or whatever, that he could be what they thought he was, be what they wanted him to be. And, still, he failed to come up with exactly what "that" was. It was there a lot of the time, he thought, when they were lying together in their sleeping bags, exhausted and shivering, holding onto each other and just… his nose in Wufei's hair, Heero's hands sliding along his ribs. It was there then and when they were running from Gael, fighting and running away. It was there then, too, in the perfect movement of their bodies.   
  
He knew Wufei was uneasy about the three of them. It was an unconventional situation to say the least. Duo understood this. So, he'd thought that if he couldn't calm Wufei down enough to see that sleepy trust and love shown to him when they all lay together, then maybe he could draw it out with a fight. He'd thought wrong. He'd been wrong, and Wufei had told him as much.   
  
This was why Duo didn't like to mess with real intimacy; this was why he learned to disappear when he was young, learned to fight when he got older, and learned to give a piece of himself in exchange for an unmatched ability to manipulate both physically and emotionally when he turned eighteen. All three put together made for an almost water-tight "Don't fuck with me" package. Heero had understood this on some level since they were kids, which was probably why he'd kept his distance until he'd figured out that Wufei had made it through somehow.   
  
Duo wasn't sorry that Wufei had. He didn't think he was, anyway. All their fight this morning meant was that he had to fix something. He had to be better. He didn't want to be bad or wrong and he knew, more surely than he knew most things, that being with Heero and Wufei was neither. And, despite what he might think, Wufei was not bad; Wufei was beautiful in every sense of the word. And so was Heero. So it had to be something about himself. He wasn't how he was supposed to be yet. But he'd figure it out because he knew it'd be worth it.   
  
He'd use his run as thinking time; he hadn't been able to get out on his own to just think probably in weeks. He needed to just cool down and figure out how to fix-  
  
He slowed from his near-sprint to a jog. Then he stopped as he saw what was happening. Cars pulling in to park all around him, men and a few women getting out, closing off exits. He turned down a side street. They were there, too. The way they walked, they appeared to be armed. He twisted around, quickly saw that he was surrounded, turned back to the half dozen men headed straight for him.   
  
"Took you fellas long enough," he said lightly. "I was beginning to wonder whether you'd forgotten about me." They said nothing in response. "What'd you do while I was gone? Were there lotsa unsatisfied clients bangin' down your door?" Again nothing. "Did Bossman persuade a few of you to pick up the slack? How'd you like the hustling gig? Did you like gettin' all prettied up, like getting on your knees for them?"  
  
Cecile was the last to emerge from the car. Duo shut his jaw with a snap. "Hasn't that silly partner of yours told you that your mouth would get you in big trouble some day?" She crooned this to him as she came forward.   
  
"He has."  
  
"You should have listened to him. Where is he? His employer wishes to speak with him."  
  
"Is there a problem?"  
  
"There is if he continues to avoid his employer's summons, if he continues to shirk his duties."  
  
"What about me? Am I in trouble?"  
  
She smiled. "Oh yes."  
  
"Excellent. Then what comes out of my mouth isn't going to make much difference either way."  
  
"No."  
  
He grinned and curled his fingers into fists.   
  
+  
  
He awoke to pain, but his mouth was only open to gasp, not to scream. Those bruises from the car accident must have... They shouldn't still hurt this much. Not this much. He was on the floor, face pressed against something wet. Had he drooled in his sleep? Wufei hated when he did that, made all sorts of disgusted noises and shoved him away looking all affronted and... He opened his eyes and realized it was blood, not spit. And the pain was too intense to be just leftover bruises. It all focused in his left shoulder. He couldn't even move it without pain shooting-  
  
Someone behind him jerked his hands and he choked, rearing backwards onto his knees, spitting out blood in his effort to draw enough air to cry out. He craned his neck back to catch a glimpse of his tormentor and saw Cecile, her mouth twisted in a small smile. Her white shirt was spattered with red. He caught a glimpse of his shoulder, saw the bone sticking out at an odd angle, a strange lump that was the source of the fierce burning pain radiating to the tips of his fingers and down his back. How did that... And then he remembered.  
  
Smothered by the shear number of bodies crushing him to the pavement, slithering between them. Even on the ground, he was more agile and flexible than they could hope to be, gravel grinding into his skin as he struggled. One of them succeeded in grabbing him, hauling him to his feet, wrenching his arms behind him. He'd thrown his head back, skull connecting with bone. More shouting, but they wouldn't let go. He thrashed and bucked, felt plastic bindings go around his wrists – he really lost it then, nearly succeeded in throwing them off. Then cool slim fingers trailed along his arms and he froze. She whispered soft words in his ear and he instantly forgot every bit of French he'd ever learned. But he heard the words 'already dead' in there somewhere and then with hands that clearly knew anatomy very well, she quickly, easily, brutally, dislocated his shoulder. And that was it.   
  
He glanced around the room now, trying to figure out where exactly he was, and he instantly knew. The floor was hard, covered in linoleum, easy to clean up. Manacles and leather straps hung from the walls, as well as any number of harnesses and binding devices. Duo turned his eyes quickly away. This was one of the mansion's play rooms, for guests with more energetic hobbies. He'd only had a handful of jobs in a room like this. Those jobs had taught him many things about himself and the nature of his clients. He chose to look at those experiences as educational.   
  
With his shoulder as fucked up as it was, he was grateful not to have woken up in any of those contraptions. He hoped he was only here because of the blood leaking from his nose and mouth, that Cecile didn't want to dirty any of Gael's carpets.   
  
The man in question stood before him now, arms crossed over his chest. He was looking at the red puddle on the floor. He appeared to be deep in thought.   
  
"Hey, Boss," Duo finally said, voice muffled with clogged sinuses. "Somethin' I can help you with?"  
  
He looked up. "The only thing I could possibly need from you, Duo, I already have."  
  
"And what's that," he muttered.  
  
"You. Your body, your life. I have it now."  
  
"I thought that whole ownership deal was hammered out when we first signed on as your thieves. Thought we were yours then. What's changed?"  
  
He smiled. "My use for you."  
  
Duo watched his employer draw closer. The man's posture was casual but alert. And he was making Duo very uneasy. He knew he was in trouble for running away and for resisting the men and women who brought him in, but he didn't know why they'd been so brutal. He was crippled at the moment, which wasn't usually Gael's style. He wasn't usually so cruel – scary as hell in a distant, threatening sort of way, but not overtly cruel.   
  
On his knees, hands still bound in sharp plastic, shoulder still out of its socket, Duo was at his mercy. His employer was directly in front of him now, leaning toward him.   
  
"I never liked you," he murmured. "But you were a great worker, one of my best employees. The list of men willing to pay top dollar for you grows larger all the time."  
  
"Then why don't you pay me more?" Duo grumbled, glaring up through thick bangs.   
  
The man grinned suddenly and, behind him, Cecile again jerked back and upward on the plastic binding his wrists. He nearly passed out as he felt his shoulder bones grind and knock together. To keep from doing so, he screamed long and loud. It felt good to be that loud. He screamed until a boot in his gut stole his breath and he doubled over, choking again.   
  
Gael knelt down beside him. "I don't pay you more, because I don't have to."  
  
Duo raised his gaze. "Not very good for our relationship, Boss. Where's my union rep when I need her?" His voice was strained and wheezing.  
  
Gael smiled. "We have no relationship, Duo. This is it; this is the end of it. My use for you has changed. The only purpose you serve now is to bring who I really want to me. So... this idea you have of who I am and what I can do to you... it's based on your history as my employee. And you have been an outstanding employee. But your history and my history mean nothing in the present. History has no meaning. It's only what is of use to me now. And now..."   
  
He left that hanging as Duo dropped his gaze and let his posture sag. Pain pounded through his body, telling him in no uncertain terms, "You are fucked. He's going to kill you. You are going to die."   
  
He flinched against the feel of the gun pressed against his cheek bone. Gael shoved it hard into him, forcing his head to the side. "Everything you thought you had, thought you were working toward, thought you could gain and make for yourself – it was not real. There is only what _I_ gave you. I gave you your life. And I can take it from you just as easily."   
  
Another jerk on his wrists, but he strangled his cry in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a few tears leak out. He wasn't crying; he didn't ever cry, but his body was betraying him.   
  
"And the best part? You don't even have to be alive to bring Heero and Wufei to me. Your death will bring them just as surely. They will have nothing left. They will serve me as my fiercest warriors and they will be more loyal and devoted than dogs because they will have nothing to lose and no force to guide them other than fear. I will protect them, keep away that fear of having nothing. _I_ will be all they have. Do you understand? Your death will ruin them, and I will rebuild them. I already have the others. The only bit of business to take care of is you. And I will relish it."  
  
Duo kept his mouth shut with some difficulty. His brain scrambled to push aside the pain and absorb all that Gael had just said. He had to think it all through, and quickly. His death appeared immanent. He would most likely have no chance of warning Heero and Wufei of what Gael had in mind for them. He would most likely never _see_ them again, let alone have the opportunity to say anything. That was the bad news. The only good news was what Duo _knew_ to be true. And that was that his death would not ruin his best friends – his lovers. Their strength lay in pairs, not with him as some sort of linchpin. Duo and Heero had been best friends forever. Duo and Wufei had been friends and then lovers for over a year. Heero and Wufei were bonded by blood and a fiery rivalry, by a deep partnership forged from a night that had almost killed them both. The three of them were stronger together, but their strength didn't come from the whole; it was founded on the components. So, in Duo's pain-addled mind, logically, his death would bring Heero and Wufei to this mansion with all the fury of avenging angels. Gael didn't stand a chance against them. They would leave him no more than a stain on one of his fancy carpets. They would mourn Duo's death and then they'd move on, their own bond even stronger.   
  
It was very important that Gael _did not_ know this, so Duo kept his mouth shut. And behind closed eyelids, he let himself mourn for what he was about to lose. He didn't really know how to do it and he knew he didn't have much time, so he concentrated all his strength on memory.   
  
_Remember_ everything about them. Hold them close to you now and maybe you can take some part of them with-  
  
He felt a different set of hands on his back and his eyes snapped open. He knew those hands. "Trowa..." he whispered. His heart surged to new life until his employer spoke again.  
  
"Mr. Barton, I'm glad you're here."  
  
"What was it you needed, sir?"  
  
His voice was flat and cold, distant and uncaring. This was an older Trowa, or rather, a younger one, Trowa from years ago.  
  
"I want you to fix Duo's arm, if you wouldn't mind. I've heard your skills in field medicine are considerable. "  
  
"I told you they were," he said without interest.  
  
"That must have been where I heard it, then."  
  
"Why can't Cecile do it? She's just as-"  
  
"Because I want you to do it."  
  
"...Fine."  
  
With even more effort, Duo kept his mouth shut. He heard the familiar "snick" of Trowa switchblade and tensed. Then a firm hand held him still as his bonds were cut. He grunted in relief as his injured shoulder came free, and then Trowa was carefully pressing him down onto the floor. He looked up to meet Trowa's gaze and blinked quickly at coldly distant green eyes. He tried to convey his confusion through his pained expression, but the Frenchman only shoved a piece of cloth into his mouth and muttered, "Bite on that," before grasping his arm in strong confident fingers and with a sharp tug, popping the bone back in place.   
  
His jaw clenched and his back arched and the cloth in his mouth muffled his cry. And then it was over.  
  
Trowa pulled him into a sitting position and arranged his arm against his chest. "Don't move this for awhile, okay?" He then took off his own shirt and fashioned a sling for the injured arm, tying it securely and settling Duo's arm more comfortably. Throughout the process, Cecile and Gael watched silently but with great interest.  
  
"What the fuck is going on?" Duo finally managed. Trowa regarded him soberly, eyes traveling over his features as though memorizing them.   
  
"I wanted you to know something," Gael said conversationally. Duo turned to face his employer and found the man's arms casually crossed behind his back, gun held loosely in his right hand.   
  
"And what's that, peaches?" Duo snapped. He didn't bother to scold himself for his attitude. Gael already hated him. As Cecile had said earlier, as he was now realizing, he was already dead.   
  
"That, thanks to your flat mate, coworker, and... friend, Mr. Barton, I know everything."  
  
Duo blinked, now even more confused. He looked at Trowa and, getting no help there, looked back to Gael. "What?"  
  
"I know what you've done Duo. I know what you've been up to and with whom you've been up to it. I know everything about all of it, thanks to Trowa."  
  
If he hadn't already been pale and sweating with pain, he probably would have turned white as death. He knew? How much did he know? All of Heero's work and Trowa's – was it all for nothing? Had he known all along? And... he looked at Trowa, ugly realization dawning.   
  
"You... you told him?"  
  
Trowa stood slowly and turned away from him.  
  
"He's _been_ telling me Duo, almost since the beginning. I know everything that you've done."  
  
Confusion and disbelief held him rigid for a few moments more, and then he hunched forward, not wanting to see what was before him. Trowa now stood beside Gael, hands loose at his sides.   
  
"I wanted you to know that you have lost, Duo, utterly and completely."  
  
He stayed hunched over, cradling his arm to his chest. His heart thudded in his ears and his muscles threatened to go to mush with all the tension slamming through them. Inside the sling, pressing against his ribs was Trowa's switchblade.


	30. Jeopardy II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**30a. Trowa**  
  
I'm alone for now but I'm waitin' on friends   
And my civic duty  
I got propriety and a place for this all   
Sure I'm low on Plaster 'O Paris  
Sure I'm low on gasoline  
_\- "Salton City" Hot Snakes_  
  
"Trowa, wait. This is- Have you thought about what you're doing?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
They rounded a corner. The woman who'd come to fetch him was bustling ahead of them, posture straight and radiating tension. They were headed toward the recreation floors. They were headed for Duo, and everything he'd hoped to avoid. He'd hoped to be running away from this place as fast as he could go, even if he was on foot, not headed for a room where his captured flat mate lay injured, waiting to be executed.  
  
"How do you know for sure that-"  
  
"Quatre, you can't come with me." He said this loudly. The woman ahead of them glanced back at them. "Gael requested my presence, not yours."  
  
"But-"  
  
He turned quickly and his lover nearly plowed right into him. Trowa closed the space between them anyway, shuffling him into a doorway and placing both hands on the wall over his head. Quatre visibly swallowed, looking up at him with wide eyes. The Frenchman leaned back to see the woman staring at them. "Would you give us a moment? He gets a little nervous sometimes."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "We really need to hurry..."  
  
He paid her no mind, leaned back in and pressed Quatre against the door, kissing him aggressively. His lover knew exactly what he was doing and remained stiff and somewhat hostile until they both knew that the woman had moved off a few paces, giving them some privacy.  
  
"How do you know what Gael plans to do with Duo?" Quatre murmured against Trowa's lips.  
  
"I know because I've been doing something for him for awhile now, and if he wants me there, he'll want to gloat. He'll use me, what I did for him, to hurt Duo. And if he does that... I don't think he has any intention of letting Duo leave here alive."  
  
"What did you do?" Quatre whispered.  
  
Trowa gently rubbed his nose against Quatre's forehead. "I don't want to tell you." He closed his eyes and wondered yet again at the fact that he could now touch the boy pressed against him any time he chose. For the last 24 hours, they'd barely let go of one another. "Promise me that when I tell you, you will run, Quatre."  
  
"Run where? I won't condemn you, Trowa. What did you do?"  
  
"With Duo. Go with him to find the others. I'll find you."  
  
He was shaking his head, white-gold hair tickling Trowa's nose. "I'm not leaving you here. If we run, you're coming with us."  
  
"Have your knives ready."  
  
They both heard it then, eyes meeting, wide with shock. Duo's voice, crying out, hoarse and loud.  
  
"Jesus…"  
  
"Be ready, Quatre," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple before striding quickly a way, trying not to break into a dead run as he followed the woman to where Duo was being held.  
  
+  
  
The amount of blood on the floor and on Duo was troubling, though Trowa guessed that not all of it was his. His braid was snarled and partially undone, matted with gravel and street dirt. His face was haggard and pale, drawn with pain. His shoulder was the biggest shock, the bone jutting outward in a large lump. Clearly dislocated - he would have seen that right away even if his escort hadn't informed him beforehand.  
  
`Stupid Gael, stupid man, asking me to fix his arm, to heal him. Everything about Duo is dangerous. You're arming a weapon you went to great difficulty to dismantle.'  
  
He watched Duo's body arch off the floor with a detached and distant expression held carefully in place. But his hands were gentle pulling his friend up and wrapping the arm in a sling made from his shirt. They were so gentle that he didn't think the young man even noticed the switchblade he slid between forearm and ribs. This was not the smartest thing Trowa could have done. In terms of his own safety, it was really quite stupid. But if Gael was going to use this moment to reveal Trowa's betrayal, Gael would suffer for it. Trowa could at least make sure of that. It was the least he could do for the friends he'd betrayed.  
  
"I know what you've done Duo. I know what you've been up to and with whom you've been up to it. I know everything about all of it, thanks to Trowa."  
  
`Here we go,' he thought. He watched Duo's mouth fall open, eyes narrowed in disbelief and anger.  
  
"You... you told him?"  
  
Trowa stood slowly and turned away from him.  
  
"He's been telling me Duo, almost since the beginning. I know everything that you've done."  
  
The look that Duo was giving him was strange. He looked utterly taken aback and lost. He looked as though his life were suddenly over. And not just his… Trowa realized in that instant what Duo was thinking, and he almost, almost, flinched. `No, Duo, I would never tell Gael about our plan, about the trap we have set for him. Never that. Heero's work is safe. It's only your trust that I've betrayed.' But he didn't have the luxury of expressing that to his friend. He could only watch the young man slump in defeat… and then tense just slightly as he realized what had been secreted inside his sling.  
  
"I wanted you to know that you have lost, Duo, utterly and completely."  
  
Trowa stood beside his employer, hands loose and ready at his sides. He watched Cecile, who was dividing her attention between Duo and Gael. She wasn't watching him. Her eyes had narrowed when Duo's shoulders shifted. Trowa could take Gael, perhaps, but he couldn't take them both unarmed, and Duo was at a distinct disadvantage. He hoped that Quatre was nearby, ready, waiting for his cue. He hoped that both exits to this room were not covered by Gael's bodyguards. Even though they were alone in this delightful room with its instruments of pleasure and pain and torture crowding the walls, he knew that reinforcements were not far off. They never were.  
  
Gael brought the handgun from behind his back and trained it once again on Duo's hunched form, the hustler's head snapping up at the sudden movement. Violet eyes looked pleadingly to him once more, though he couldn't tell whether the emotion there was genuine or whether his fear was feigned. Trowa wondered briefly at his employer's ability to look a man in the eye, talk to him, know him, essentially raise him from adolescence on, and then murder him in cold blood. Trowa had taken many lives in his last career, and he'd not known any of them. He'd barely been able to look them in the eye. Perhaps he was the coward, not Gael. He hoped what was about to happen would atone for his weakness.  
  
Cecile was now glancing between the three of them, looking increasingly uneasy. She looked down at his hands, then at Duo's rigid posture. As Gael's finger tightened on the trigger of the gun, her eyes widened.  
  
Duo shouted as the gun went off, the desperate last shout of a frightened boy. The switchblade was open, glinting in his hand and then buried in Cecile's thigh before either of them seemed to realize that no one had been shot. Trowa held Gael's wrist in one hand - the gun now aimed above everyone's heads - and Gael's throat in the other. His employer stared at him for a moment, his strong, handsome features pinched in a small frown of annoyance. Then Cecile screamed in anger and Duo was on his feet, taking short vicious swipes at her with the blade, his body immediately compensating for the absent counterweight of his other arm. She limped backwards, dodging and bending away from his swift strikes. Trowa tightened his grip on Gael's throat and pinched a nerve in the man's wrist.  
  
"Drop the gun," he murmured.  
  
Gael's dark eyebrows twitched upward as if to say, `You dare ask me?'  
  
Trowa brought his knee up, jamming it firmly into his employer's stomach. The air left Gael's lungs in an audible `whoosh,' and the gun went off again. Then it clattered to the floor as they both sank to the ground. More shots fired and Trowa feared that it was the same gun and that Duo had been hurt. He spun around to see a handful of Gael's bodyguards crowding through the doorway. In their midst, his small size and bright hair drawing the eye, was Quatre, fighting his way out of the pack of men entering the room.  
  
Now. It had to be now.  
  
"Run!" he shouted, clamping his fist even tighter around Gael's throat. He knew dozens of ways to kill a person with his bare hands. He hadn't used any of them in many years, but this one was coming back quickly. Not fast enough though. His fingers sought the points on his neck that would cut off blood supply to the brain. More gunshots, and now cries of pain, though none of them were from voices he knew. Except Cecile; he knew her voice and she didn't sound happy.  
  
He had to make this quick. Their opportunity was passing them by. He released Gael's wrist and reached for the back of the man's head, readying himself for a swift, sharp jerk that would end it very quickly. He was focused and strong. He was brave. He could end this now and they could be free of all the violence and the cruelty this man had put them through. He met Gael's liquid dark eyes and saw quiet confidence there. Gael was not afraid.  
  
Trowa felt the bullets thud into his back and thigh simultaneously. He didn't cry out, but the air left his lungs in a sharp breath. His grip loosened slightly, and his left leg wanted to give out under him, even though he was already kneeling. He had him, one hand at his chin, one at the back of his head; he applied the right amount of pressure, started to twist; he was so close. If he could just do this, his betrayal wouldn't even matter.  
  
Something heavy struck the back of his head - he felt and heard it grating against his hair and skin and bone - and he lost his grip on Gael's chin. Strong hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him back. His head lolled backwards and his vision swam. Who held him? Quatre? Had they run?  
  
"Trowa!"  
  
He barely managed to get a look over his shoulder as he was pulled him away from Gael's prone form. Duo, jaw set firmly, eyes a murderous, bruised purple, slashed and snarled his way free, holding onto Quatre's sleeve with his injured arm. He was dragging him toward the door, trying to run. Trowa's first thought was that he shouldn't be using that arm for anything. His second thought didn't come out very loudly. _"Please_ run, Quatre."  
  
Their eyes locked just as Duo succeeded in getting them through the door, moving the fight outside. Quatre looked panicked, but Trowa couldn't muster the wherewithal to return an emotional response of similar strength. He watched the space where Quatre had been until he had to blink and then he looked around the room. Cecile slumped against the wall, one hand pressed firmly against the knife wound in her thigh. She held her side as well, blood trickling between her fingers. She was scowling fiercely. He rolled onto his back and saw Gael massaging his throat and getting carefully to his feet. Trowa's entire back was warm and sticky. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't seem to get his muscles working in the right order. He could only gasp and fall back. Gael stepped towards him, shaking his head.  
  
  
**30b. Duo**  
  
I'm the eyes, I'm the ears,  
I'm the hands and the arms  
Of the new Civic Guard  
And I read up   
And I'm set up  
And you know that a man is hard to find  
_\-- "Salton City" Hot Snakes_  
  
Duo's injured arm throbbed and burned as he stubbornly clung to Quatre's sleeve, dragging the boy toward the door. He held a gun in his other hand, finger on the trigger. He'd managed to stab the gun's owner in the gut, which was how the weapon came to be in his possession now. That man was on the floor, bleeding, curled into a ball, moaning softly. Another bodyguard was kneeling beside him, pressing a hand against the wound. Duo's stomach was churning as he kept one eye on the grisly damage he'd inflicted and focused the rest of his attention on the muscle standing around them. Every one of their weapons was aimed at his head. The gun he'd taken pointed right back at them, specifically at a beefy kid with red cheeks and bright blue eyes. Duo was watching this kid, thinking about what it would mean to pull the trigger. The two bits of drama he was watching put together made him want to throw up. This kind of violence he was not used to - lethal violence, violence involving gun powder and bullets and switchblades ripped through guts. He'd loosen a few teeth and break a bone here or there, but this...  
  
Even though no one had died yet, the air stank of death. It reminded him of the last time - the only time - he'd killed a person: a boy about his age, a boy who'd been hurting Heero, stealing from them. Duo had taken the wire he kept in his braid and put it around that boy's neck so fast that-  
  
"Trowa!"  
  
Duo darted a glance in Trowa's direction and clenched his jaw. The Frenchman clung to Gael's body, fingers clawing at his neck. He was bleeding, his shirt soaked through with it. A second before he'd been throttling their boss, about to break his neck.  
  
"Mother fucking hell," he muttered, once again sizing up the half-dozen men aiming their handguns at his head. "Quatre move!" He gave an enormous tug on Quatre's arm and strangled the curses he wanted to scream out as pain tore through his shoulder. Quatre stumbled into him and they both fell backwards. Their lost balance probably saved their lives as the red-cheeked kid suddenly fired. The gun was deafeningly loud, and the kid looked just as surprised as Duo felt that the gun had gone off. The hustler watched the kid correct his aim and prepare to fire again. But before he could pull the trigger, Duo raised his stolen weapon and fired, dragging Quatre through the doorway before either of them could see the kid falling. They were sprinting away in the next second, and Duo knew full well that the only reason no one was firing at them was because Quatre was blocking a clear shot at him. He couldn't be sure whether Quatre was doing this intentionally or not. His answer came pretty quickly.  
  
"Duo, stop! We can't leave Trowa!" A sharp tug on his sleeve forced a hiss between clenched teeth.  
  
"Shut up and run, Q," he gritted, pulling him around a corner, keeping the gun trained on the men following them until they were out of sight.  
  
"Duo, he's hurt. I have to get back to him. I have to-"  
  
"Q, they want me dead." He looked into Quatre's frantic eyes. "Gael is going to kill me if he can."  
  
Their voices came closer. "They just went left down that hall; they couldn't have gotten far, but watch it, Maxwell's got Benchimol's gun." Duo heard feet thudding closer and felt fear and adrenalin kick through his system with renewed strength.  
  
"We'll come back fro him. Promise. But I'm not dying for him today, buddy." He turned and ran, dragging Quatre with him.  
  
"No, please, Duo! Stop!"  
  
"There they are - they haven't gone anywhere yet."  
  
Duo slammed through a door into an empty stairwell and his heart leapt at the sight of crisscrossing stairways and metal railings. Finally, some form of protection from all the bullets aimed at his head. He released Quatre's arm and grinned back at him, vaulting over the railing and practically flying down the cement stairs. He knew Quatre was behind him, following at a slightly slower pace and he glanced over his shoulder.  
  
"Keep it movin', Q."  
  
"Duo..." His steps slowed even further as the door slammed open again and harsh voices told them to stop running. Those voices assured them of safety they in no way had. Duo could see the lies in their words, and he bet Quatre could too, but that didn't stop him from going with them.  
  
"I can't go with you, Duo."  
  
Duo looked back up the stairwell to see Quatre crouching down, hands on the bars of the railing, face press against them, blue eyes regarding him soberly and with resignation.  
  
"I'm going back with them."  
  
Duo backed away from the railing, out of sight of the men who now surrounded Quatre. Arguing with Quatre was pointless; the kid was not flexible where Trowa was concerned. He began to slowly make his way down the stairs, footfalls silent, eyes searching above him for signs of pursuit.  
  
"Good luck, Duo." Quatre's voice was soft and had it not been for the echoing walls, Duo probably would not have heard him. He kept up his silent retreat until those voices sounded again, like dogs who'd recovered a scent, and he jolted forward. He heard a short struggle above him, followed by, "Please don't hurt him. Why do you have to- why do you need guns? Don't-" The boy's voice abruptly cut off as a few muscle removed him from the stairwell, leaving Duo alone with the remainder.  
  
His legs took him forward and down toward the first floor of the mansion. If he could just get to an exit, he could disappear and get back to the others. Quatre was a lost cause. Quatre and Trowa were both gone, and Duo's heart was divided on this. Apparently, Gael knew everything about their plan thanks to Trowa. Apparently they'd been betrayed by one of their few friends. But, Trowa had just now risked his life to prevent Duo's brains from splattering all over the floor. Trowa had been shot, was even now bleeding out on that same floor. That had to count for something. Regardless, Duo told himself, he had to get away from here, first to save his own hide, and second to warn Heero that the security of their plan was in jeopardy. Who knew what sort of reception they'd receive at the police station when they brought in what Heero had painstakingly gathered? Perhaps a firing squad.  
  
But when he got to Heero and Wufei - what then? Mount a rescue effort for their two friends or hit the ground at a dead run and not look back over their shoulders until there was at least an ocean between them and their former employer? If Trowa really had betrayed them, if Gael really did know what they knew about him, then no amount of running could save them - not in the long run anyway. And coming back for Trowa and Quatre? Fuck that. They could-  
  
He let out a sharp curse as the stairwell plunged into sudden and complete darkness, his feet continuing their descent, though he couldn't see his fingers right in front of his nose. He came to a landing, listening for the pounding feet in pursuit, grinning tightly at their muttered curses. They sounded as surprised as him. They shouted about power outages and blown fuses as he grabbed for the doorknob and found himself slipping halfway across the landing, his sneakers sliding out from under him. Throwing his uninjured arm down, he caught himself, fingers slipping in cold viscous fluid. Cursing quietly, he scrambled back to his feet, threw open the door and staggered through into a dim hallway. Through a window at the end of the corridor, he saw the darkening glow of dusk, and again, his heart sped up. If he could just get outside, he could disappear more thoroughly than a drop of rainwater in sewer drain.  
  
He started forward down the hall. The power was definitely out; not a single light illuminated his path. He brought his hand up and found it coated in something dark and slimy. He sniffed tentatively and recoiled. Blood. Blood that, judging by its temperature and thickness, had been there for at least an hour.  
  
He picked up his pace, fading into the shadows against the wall as the three remaining muscle after him emerged from the stairwell. One of them was on a phone, speaking softly, voice worried and distracted. Duo tried to listen and stay a safe distance away, but straining, he couldn't hear much. He backed around a corner and ducked down. Glancing around, he saw that he was on the dining floor in the corridor running behind the main ballroom. At the other end should be another staircase that went down to the kitchens and the basement, and between here and there was the first floor and the main exit.  
  
Finally, he heard what he was after as he heard the cell phone click shut.  
  
"The cameras are all down. A virus in the main computer. Someone cut the power, too. No intruders have been spotted, but there are three confirmed dead, which would probably explain that puddle we just slid through."  
  
Duo didn't dare get too excited about what those words meant and he didn't get the time as a wandering employee caught his hunched figure in the beam of her flashlight. He turned sharply and held a finger to his lips, giving her a winning smile that was most likely ruined by the blood streaked between his mouth and nose. She knew exactly who he was.  
  
"The boss is looking for you. You need to get back... hey!" He blew past her as the men following him shouted that they'd spotted him. Bolting for the opposite door, Duo's frown of concentration turned into a scowl of confusion as he registered the scream of a dozen sirens approaching the mansion. Cops? What the hell was-  
  
He shouted his surprise and backpedaled away from the door as four officers emerged from the dark stairway, weapons drawn. He stumbled back and glanced quickly over his shoulder to see Gael's muscle hesitating as well. He looked back at the officers and cast a practiced eye over their uniforms, assessing their threat to him. Judging by posture and sheer number of bludgeoning objects strapped to their belts, they didn't look like friends.  
  
Duo'd always had a very healthy suspicion of the law for a number of logical reasons, not the least of which was the known fact that Gael had a sizable fraction of the force under his thumb, making sure that none of his employees came into close contact with the cops he didn't control. And since prostitution wasn't _really_ allowed and neither was stealing or squatting in abandoned buildings, Duo had lived pretty much his entire life on the wrong side of legal. Plus, he was just an ornery kid to begin with who didn't like it when what was "right" was backed up by force. He'd never been particularly convinced by that logic.  
  
But glancing between the officers and the muscle, he figured it was worth a shot. Maybe these cops weren't Gael's.  
  
"Officers! You gotta help me; these guys are after me, and they're waving guns around, and I've already been shot at many times today. I've been assaulted and brought here against my will and these guys are-"  
  
"Shut it, Maxwell. We know what you're about."  
  
"But-" Duo swallowed and once again found himself staring down the barrel of a gun, his fingers flexing over the reassuring grip of the gun hidden in his sling. But the officers were watching his movements.  
  
"Keep you hands where we can see them."  
  
Duo smiled a bit shakily. "Okay, sure. Just... please, you gotta help me out here. I didn't do anything wrong and-"  
  
"For fucks sake, Maxwell, would you shut your filthy lying mouth? I don't give a shit about you or any of your faggot friends." He whirled to see one of Gael's muscle raising his gun. The man was eyeing the police with great unease. "I don't know what the fuzz is doing here, but I know these blokes won't mind me blowing that pretty head of yours off your shoulders."  
  
Duo's smile turned razor sharp as he darted in front of the police officers just as Gael's muscle opened fire. He ducked low and heard bullets strike flesh over his head as two officers grunted and fell. Shouts and curses of anger and surprise echoed around him as he crawled between the officers legs and toward the sheltering darkness down the hall. But then large hands came down on his injured shoulder and he gritted his teeth against the grinding pain in the joint as those hands jerked him back. He collapsed to the floor, body arching away from the fingers digging into his shoulder, his other hand carefully reaching for the switchblade tucked into his sling. He sucked in a breath and turned quickly, blade slicing the officer's wrist. He snarled, teeth bared and took a few more swipes at the officer's retreating figure before struggling to his feet and stumbling away from the officers as they tried to help the two that had been wounded.  
  
He nearly fell through the doors into the main ballroom, eyes searching for anyone likely to pull a gun on him. He held his aching arm and wandered through the empty tables and chairs. They were set for some grand affair, ornate crystal and silver shining dimly in the dark. He held his blade loosely, fatigue beginning to tug at his vision and his muscles. The room appeared to be empty, though his frazzled senses were clanging a distant fuzzy warning. He couldn't bring himself to get worked up about it. He dropped to all fours when he heard two men entered the ball room, shuffling along the floor as they stalked amongst the tables. He kept as much of his weight as he could on his uninjured arm, switching his knife to his other hand, though his fingers could barely grip it.  
  
The men coming after him were not stupid. They were very carefully herding him into a corner, cutting off his exits. He could feel them closing in, even though they remained silent and their footsteps were relatively quiet. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable sound of a slide clicking back into place and then coming forward again. He doubled back, hoping to ghost between them without their knowledge and, if nothing else, take one of them out with the gun he still held against his chest.  
  
He looked up at the one from underneath the table and readied himself for another death on his hands. But there was no way to get around it. Kill the bodyguard or let him live to alert others who would find him and-  
  
A sleek, dark presence behind him suddenly filled his vision as he spun around, finger tightening on the trigger a moment before his uninjured arm was swept out from under him, and he fell onto his side. A gloved hand clamped firmly over his mouth before he could make any noise of surprise and then a familiar weight came down on his injured shoulder, pressing him to the floor. He sucked in a gasp and tasted blood on the glove in his mouth. He rolled onto his stomach, taking some of the pressure off his arm and he instantly felt a strong heartbeat thundering against his back. They lay like that for a few seconds, Duo's eyes darting about the room as sounds of a brutally brief struggle erupted to his left. A gun fired and he flinched. Then the fight moved to his right and he heard the sound of sliced vocal chords rattling with air a moment before everything was silent.  
  
The hand came away from his mouth and the weight rolled off him as Duo struggled to sit up. He turned to see Wufei kneeling beside him, a hand outstretched to help him up. Duo grabbed it and jerked the dragon forward, clamping his good arm around his lover's shoulder.  
  
"Good timing for a rescue," he murmured into Wufei's throat as the dragon reached hesitant arms around him to return the embrace. He remained silent as Heero came to their side, kneeling down and wiping his serrated blade on the table cloth.  
  
Duo felt Heero's palm come to rest on his back, then warm breath on his neck. "We thought you were dead. Are you injured?"  
  
Held tightly against Wufei and with Heero so close behind him, Duo felt his eyelids grow heavy even though they were far from safe, even though he heard enraged voices entering the ballroom.  
  
"My arm got pulled apart," he whispered. "But Trowa put it back together. We need to get out of here. I've got cops and bodyguards after me. And they all want to kill me, I think."  
  
"Okay," he whispered back. "This way."  
  
Then they were moving again - before Duo even really had time to realize that his odds of survival had just increased significantly - slinking through the shadows toward the rear end of the ballroom as two police officers and one of Gael's muscle herded them forward. Beside him, Wufei suddenly pressed a familiar scabbard into his hands. Duo smiled his thanks and took the short sword.  
  
"I didn't know whether I'd be able to give that back to you," Wufei murmured, keeping his eyes on Heero's back as he led them toward the rear exit.  
  
"You should know I don't die easy. Someone like me never dies easy."  
  
That morning's bitter fight replayed itself in fragments and, judging by Wufei's bitter expression, he was hearing his own harsh words again. "That's why we came for you," he said softly. "Whatever we found here, we came to finish it. And if you'd been..." _Killed. If you'd been killed._ The words hung in the air without needing to be said. "We would not have left until everyone who'd hurt you was dead."  
  
"Then you probably wouldn't have ever left here."  
  
"Probably not."  
  
Heero shot an angry glance over his shoulder and then jerked his head toward the darkened exit. Duo swallowed his sharp retort and instead gave Wufei a tight smile as they heard the men following them encounter the two that Heero had taken down.  
  
"You responsible for the virus, the power outage and the bodies?" he finally whispered as they neared the door.  
  
Heero looked back again and his mouth twitched upward.  
  
"Who else?" Wufei sniffed.


	31. Jeopardy III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \------------  
> Warning: lots of blood in this chap.

**31\. Quatre**  
  
You know, I had to yell   
Just to get my voice back  
_\- Smog "The Well"_  
  
Any thoughts of Duo's safety and whereabouts fled at the sight that greeted him upon his return to the room they'd so recently escaped. The muscle gripping his arm released him as soon as they were inside, but not before he grabbed the bandolier of knives from across Quatre's chest. He didn't protest or struggle but dropped down beside Trowa's sprawled figure, ignoring the activity of everyone around him. He very consciously blocked out the pained moans of the man Duo had gutted. He didn't look at the body of the boy Duo had shot. He kept his eyes on Trowa as he carefully rolled the Frenchman onto his stomach so that he could see his injury. He didn't think his lover was conscious, but as his body came to rest, he groaned softly, and very slowly, long fingers slid along the floor and reached for Quatre's hand.  
  
The boy gasped softly when he found his fingers clenched in an alarmingly tight grip. He tore his eyes away from the bloody hole in his lover's back and watched as Trowa pulled his hand closer to his chest, tugging him down until he could feel Trowa's faint breaths. He brushed soft auburn hair away from a pale cheek. "Trowa?"  
  
One dark green eye opened and regarded him without focus. Then recognition hit and Quatre could see the Frenchman's throat working to speak. "What the hell are you doing here?" He coughed weakly and Quatre thought he saw the blood pumping out of the bullet wound spurt a little before slowing again. It was suddenly very difficult for him to swallow.  
  
"Shit," he managed, pulling his shirt over his head and winding in into a large bandage. He very gently wrapped it around his lover's middle, sliding it underneath him and tying it securely. He tugged on the knot and then flinched when Trowa hissed and then coughed again. The sound was wet. Trowa looked up at him.  
  
"Pieces of a rib in my lung. It's filling up."  
  
Quatre tried to swallow again and failed. He brushed the hair from Trowa's forehead again and found his skin cold and clammy.  
  
"Why are you here, Quatre?"  
  
Quatre smiled and laid down beside him, twining their fingers together again. "I came back for you. I couldn't leave you here."  
  
"Where's Duo? Did he..."  
  
"He got away. He's fine. You saved him."  
  
Trowa regarded him with one cool eye. "You don't lie very well."  
  
Quatre slid closer and kissed him on the mouth, tasted metal on his tongue. "You shouldn't talk. Show me where else you're hurt and I'll fix you up."  
  
Trowa nodded and gestured toward his leg. Quatre sat up and, after a very short examination, saw the other bullet wound in Trowa's thigh. Fortunately, it'd missed the main artery by a healthy distance. It'd mostly just gone through a little muscle and tissue and then out the other side. Quatre tore a strip from his t-shirt and bound the wound as gently as he could. He could see that Trowa's left arm was bright red, angry bruising just beginning to darken to purple. Duo had dragged Quatre from the room before he could see what Gael did to Trowa after he'd been shot. The last he'd seen was Gael moving towards him. By the looks of it, he'd probably stepped on Trowa's arm... not very gently either. Finally, Trowa's dark red hair was stained brown and matted against the back of his skull. Quatre touched his head gently and his fingers came away sticky. The wound hadn't bled much and wasn't bleeding now, though Trowa was probably a bit concussed.  
  
"Anywhere else?"  
  
"Nothing you can fix," he wheezed. "If I don't get to a hospital..."  
  
The tile floor was smeared with too much blood. Quatre had it all over him now, too. He saw that his lover was afraid. Trowa was afraid that he was going to die.  
  
The lights flickered and then went out, and the room plunged into complete darkness. There were no windows and none out in the hall. Voices erupted in surprise all around them. Gael was suddenly shouting for a flashlight and Cecile was demanding that someone help her up. Quatre couldn't see Trowa in front of him and he reached out, searching for him. He found his lover's hand and squeezed, feeling a faint pressure in return. Fear thrilled through him. What if someone tried to hurt them while they were essentially blind? What if someone could see them and they couldn't... He spun around, looking for any sign of danger, one hand out in front of him. He felt around blindly until Trowa tugged on his hand again and he realized that the best he could do for the moment was to shelter his lover with his body.  
  
They heard a cell phone ringing and then Gael's harsh speech. _"All_ the security cameras are down from one virus? ...And, of course, you can't get the power back on..."  
  
Quatre heard Trowa drawing a labored breath as he fought to speak. "They've come for him."  
  
Quatre didn't need to ask who Trowa was referring to. Cecile had an idea as well.  
  
"They're hunting us," she hissed from some unspecified location to their left.  
  
"Indeed," Gael murmured, as Quatre heard the phone click shut. "Three of my employees have been confirmed dead, nearly sliced in half..."  
  
Quatre huddled over Trowa's body, wishing that his eyes would hurry up and adjust to the darkness, so that he could figure out who was where and what would happen to them. This would be the ideal time to get away, disappearing into the dark, just two more shadows. But Trowa couldn't go anywhere, so Quatre sheltered him with his body, hoping that he'd sense an attack long enough before it came to be able to protect Trowa in some way other than just being a human shield. "We have to get Gael out of here," Quatre whispered. "So that I can get you out of here."  
  
"What about Maxwell?" Cecile asked.  
  
Silence hung heavy for a moment. "He'd dead, shot through the back of the head. I wish I'd seen it."  
  
Quatre's heart thudded to a halt and then froze to a chunk of ice. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Trowa's cold slick fingers on his face, and knew that he now had blood streaked across his cheeks, like war paint. He pictured Trowa smiling faintly up at him, sending him off to battle. He pictured. Heero and Wufei ghosting through the mansion, silent angels of vengeance and murder. He squeezed Trowa's hand and leaned down to kiss his salty mouth again.  
  
Then he raised his head. "You'd better find them before they find you... sir."  
  
Finally, a flashlight clicked on and Quatre shielded his eyes from the bright beam as it came to rest on him. He could only vaguely make out the shape of his boss, but he could hear the man grinning.  
  
"Right you are, Mr. Winner. If it's me they're after, I'd best go out to meet them and see if there's anything to be salvaged from all this." He paused, looking Quatre up and down with a considering eye. "You'd better stay out of trouble. Mr. Barton's fate is very easy to reproduce. I advise you to stay put while I take care of this."  
  
He whispered a few words to one of the remaining muscle and then tossed him the flashlight, heading off into the dark hallway alone. Quatre could see Cecile watching him, holding her side, and scowling. Quatre looked down at Trowa, who'd manage to roll onto his side. The Frenchman's eyes were glazed, his expression distant. He knelt down again by his side and again, green eyes focused and bloody fingers grabbed for his hand.  
  
"Easy," Quatre murmured. "Don't move."  
  
"Now, Quatre," he whispered. "It has to be now."  
  
"What does, Trowa?"  
  
"You have to finish it. I brought you here, brought him here. I did this to you... before. When you learned you were sick, when you couldn't work with us anymore, I begged him to give you more responsibility, so that you were useful in this family. Otherwise, if you'd... you were too volatile."  
  
"Trowa..."  
  
"He wouldn't have let you stay here unless you were working and I didn't want you to be here in the mansion, away from us - we couldn't protect you here- so I asked him if he would give you a better job. I needed you to be with us, with me, so I got you the job as a hunter. I made you kill people. You killed that girl because of me. I did all this to you. I'm sorry, Quatre."  
  
Quatre could barely hear his lover, even leaning down by his ear. "Sshh," he soothed. "It's okay."  
  
"And Duo... tell Duo that I didn't give away our secret. It's safe. I just... Gael wanted to know what was happening in the flat, as a price for getting you the job. It was the price and I said yes, and so I've been telling him everything. He thinks he knows it all, but he only knows that Duo and Wufei are lovers. And that Heero doesn't know they're together and... I betrayed that trust and..."  
  
Quatre's voice caught in his throat as he ran his palm over Trowa's forehead. "Duo's dead, Trowa. He's dead. I can't tell him. I left him in the stairwell and...."  
  
Trowa shook his head. "Gael was lying. I know he was."  
  
"But-"  
  
"That's why you have to finish it, Quatre. I brought you here. And I brought him here and you have to finish it for me. Find the others and..."  
  
Quatre caught movement behind him and turned to see the muscle with the flashlight approaching. He looked uneasy, and he was fumbling with something on his belt. "What are you doing?" Quatre asked sharply. "Stay away from us." The man continued to approach. Quatre turned his back on Trowa, getting to his feet. "What do you want?"  
  
"Get out of the way kid. Hurry up."  
  
"No."  
  
"Look, I don't want to hurt you, and neither does the boss. Now just get out of the way." The man had a gun. He was aiming low and to Quatre's right. He was aiming for Trowa. "That kid screwed up. He tried to hurt the boss. That shit doesn't fly around here. You know that."  
  
"Back off," Quatre gritted, reaching for throwing daggers that weren't there. "Get away from us."  
  
"I can't. He told me to do it. Now get out of the way."  
  
Quatre shook his head, balling his hands into fists. "No."  
  
The man hesitated another moment, and the weapon briefly lowered. Quatre surged forward and the gun came back up, firing in the same instant. Pain blossomed bright and hot in his right bicep and he staggered. He fainted to the left as the gun fired again, and then he tackled the man to the ground, landing heavily on a muscled chest. His knee pressed firmly on the man's right arm, he heard the gun hit the tiled floor a moment before he grabbed a hold of his chin and the back of his head and twisted sharply. The sound of his neck snapping echoed wetly around the room before silence fell again, Quatre had the gun and flashlight in hand, the beam darting in a jagged pattern around the room as he searched for anyone remaining. He quickly found Cecile resting by the door, one arm in the air in surrender, the other held against her still-bleeding side. He stepped backwards over Trowa's body and put his back to the wall, again flashing the light around the room. Two more men that he could see, both afraid.  
  
His breath came in harsh gasps and his heart pounded in his ears, as with a remarkably steady hand, he pulled the trigger twice more. A flash of white and he saw Cecile escape through the open door, disappearing into shadow. The two men slumped to the floor and again, he searched the room. The man Duo gutted wasn't moving anymore. He'd stopped moaning several minutes ago, Quatre realized. He'd most likely died, but just to be sure, he stepped forward and kicked the man onto his back. His hands were still clutched over his stomach, where Quatre could see guts trying to fall out. He gagged and quickly looked away, returning to Trowa's side, senses screaming for any sound that might be a threat, hating the thick darkness that hung around them like a shroud.  
  
His lover's eyes were closed. "Trowa, wake up." He put down the flashlight so that the beam shown directly on Trowa's face. He patted the Frenchman's cheeks lightly, and called his name again. "Come on, Trowa, open your eyes." He looked around the room again, eyes bouncing over the lumps on the floor that were four dead men and one dead kid. One of them had to have a phone. He needed to call an ambulance.  
  
Searching through their pockets made his skin shiver and all the hair on his arms stand up, but he quickly found what he was looking for. As he flipped open the phone, he glanced up, startled out of his concentration. Was that... sirens? Just then he heard voices and the sound of feet on carpet coming toward them. He had the flashlight off in the next second and had backed over to where Trowa lay when he heard them in the doorway. He took a few steadying breaths and raised the gun again, keeping himself between the men and Trowa. Then four flashlight beams found him and shouts of "Police! Drop your weapon!" assailed his ears. "Drop it now! Put your hands behind your head!" He did as he was told, watching as the officers carefully approached him, weapons trained on his chest.  
  
"Please," he said softly. "You have to help us. He's been shot. So have I. Please help us." He looked up at the officers standing around him and put on his best wide-eyed, innocent face. They glanced between each other, mouths dropping open in surprise.  
  
"... Quatre Winner? Are you Quatre Winner?"  
  
Relief began to flood through him. "Yes, I am."  
  
"You've been missing for almost a year. Have you been here this whole time?"  
  
Now he was weak with it. "Yes. Held against my will. But I'm fine. You have to help my friend. He's lost a lot of blood."  
  
And then, everything was happening very fast. An officer radioed down for a stretcher as the rest searched the room and examined the bodies. Quatre leaned over the body of his lover and found a weak pulse, but he was still breathing and, after a few more times calling his name, he opened his eyes and took a shuddering painful breath. He coughed and bright red blood sprayed from his mouth, some of it getting on Quatre. The fear and panic were back in his eyes as he tried to breath and found one lung full of fluid.  
  
"It's okay, Trowa. You'll be okay. We're safe now. There's a stretcher on the way. I'm not leaving you."  
  
Three paramedics entered the room then, pushing a stretcher ahead of them. Quatre was gently moved aside as his lover's vital signs were checked and then he was carefully lifted onto the stretcher. Glazed green eyes sought him out as they headed for the door and Quatre pushed his way to his side, gripping icy fingers in one blood-stained hands, grabbing up his bandolier of knives in the other.  
  
"You have to finish this, _mon petite,"_ Trowa mouthed to him. "Finish it for me."  
  
Quatre jogged with him a few more paces, ready to protest, to say that he was coming in the ambulance, but he saw that Trowa was utterly serious. He saw the guilt and suffering that his lover had been weighed down by for the past months fresh and raw and finally visible, and so he nodded. "I will. And then I'll find you." He stopped and watched the paramedics disappear around the corner, leaving him alone with the police.  
  
"Mr. Winner, we'd like to ask you a few questions when we get to the station. If you'd like to have your lawyer present that's understandable. " Quatre spun around to see a kind-looking officer with glasses and a bit of a belly standing in the doorway, pointing a flashlight toward him. His mind flashed forward to how that would go. His family's lawyers. Would they know that his sisters had sold him to Gael and his Family? Would he even be safe meeting with them? His father hadn't died yet. If Quatre were to suddenly reappear, the future of the Winner fortune would again be in question. His sisters' plan would have been foiled. They would be ruined. He could get his life back. He could go home and maybe still go to school in the fall. Unless...  
  
There were five bodies in that room and a gun with his fingerprints on it. The men he'd killed... his lawyers could certainly get him off on self-defense, but he wasn't sure he could even talk to the Winner's lawyers.  
  
"I, um. I have to..." He looked over his shoulder down the dark corridor. The weight of his knives was familiar and comforting against his body. At least two of his friends were somewhere in the building, dealing death with glinting blades. He hoped for three. He hoped Gael had lied about Duo, though why he would about something like that was unclear. And he'd promised Trowa... "There's something I have to..."  
  
The officer blinked and the boy was gone.


	32. (Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**32\. Wufei**

So bury me in wood and I will splinter  
Bury me in stone and I will quake  
Bury me in water and I will geyser  
Bury me in fire and I will phoenix  
I'm gonna phoenix  
_\- Smog "Say Valley Maker"_  
  
Wufei stood with his ear to the bathroom door, listening for any sign of activity outside as Duo washed up in the sink. The sound of water against enamel seemed ridiculously loud to his ears, but he kept his mouth shut. Heero had rested their light on the ledge in front of the mirror and was gently re-braiding Duo's hair, combing through it as best he could with his fingers while their lover scrubbed at his bloody face with a wad of wet paper towels. He winced as his lip started bleeding again and Heero's whisper was loud in the tiled room. "Careful Duo. Don't injure yourself any further." Duo grunted and continued to ruthlessly rub at the dried blood on his chin.  
  
Finally, when he was done cleaning up and Heero was finished tying back his hair, Duo leaned down and took a long drink from the faucet. Wufei realized that with all the excitement throughout the day, he'd probably gotten quite dehydrated. He splashed another handful of water over his face and then straightened, turning off the faucet and scrubbing back his bangs with one hand. His dampened hair stood up at odd angles for a moment before he flattened it with another swipe of his hand.  
  
"So... " he started. "You boys wanna tell me why there are cops crawling all over this joint or should I keep guessing about why the two of you and they showed up at roughly the same time?"  
  
Heero looked at the floor and Wufei turned his attention to listening for noises outside.  
  
"We didn't know where you'd gone," Heero whispered finally. "We didn't think you'd just... disappear. I knew you wouldn't do that."  
  
Wufei flinched slightly. He and Heero had been quite the disaster, trying to determine what they should do when they'd realized Duo wasn't coming back. Wufei was convinced that he'd driven Duo off with his cruel temper - driven him to leave them for good. And Heero was certain that something had happened to keep him away. He assured Wufei that Duo would never be so cowardly. He said that Duo ran and hid but he never abandoned those he loved.  
  
Either way, they'd needed to find Duo - immediately. They knew that it wasn't safe for him to be out and about and visible. So, they'd gone directly to the police, both to enlist their help in finding him, and to hand over copies of everything Heero had accumulated over the last several months in his careful, silent attempt at sabotage.  
  
"We needed help finding you," Heero continued. "So we went to the police and told them that we thought you were probably here, taken against your will."  
  
Duo snorted. "The four cops I ran into didn't look like they had any interest in helping me out."  
  
"We also told them that a significant percentage of their force was actually working for Gael. We told them which ones we suspected, and the officer I spoke with said she'd take care of it." He paused and scratched the back of his head, looking nervous - or at least as nervous as Heero Yuy ever looked. "Then we told them everything else. We handed it all over to the police. It wasn't going to get us anywhere if all Gael had to do was snatch you out from under our noses."  
  
Wufei turned from the door and glared at Duo. "When Heero says 'we,' he means just him. I didn't open my mouth once."  
  
"Whatever came out wouldn't have been constructive," Heero muttered. "You'd only have scared people or gotten yourself locked up somewhere."  
  
Wufei watched the grin start at the corner of Duo's mouth and slowly spread across his face. He felt his mouth twitch in reply. Heero was watching Duo as well and Wufei had never seen such a clear broadcasting of the depth of his two friends' relationship. Perhaps it was because the bathroom was so dark that Heero felt he could let such naked emotions out. Perhaps he was just that relieved to see Duo standing in front of them, very much alive and not too severely injured. Whichever it was, Wufei was glad he got to see it. 'We are all stronger together,' he thought. He was beginning to believe it.  
  
Duo's grin faded and he reached up to rub his shoulder. "So... you guys didn't meet any trouble when you went to the police station? No one was... waiting for you, or anything? No firing squad?"  
  
Heero shook his head, looking confused. "Why? Should there have been?"  
  
Duo's hand traveled from his shoulder down to his elbow. "... No. No, I guess not. ... Just wondering." A strange silence fell between them and Wufei wanted to ask just what Duo had seen in the hours he'd been kept here, what he'd been led to believe while Gael hurt him and threatened him and tried to kill him. Then Duo shook his head quickly and gave them a forced smile. "So, what now?"  
  
+  
  
He couldn't get a good look at the room Duo said Quatre and Trowa should still be in, and this was really pissing him off. There were police everywhere. He supposed he could just walk up to them and ask where Trowa and Quatre were, but Duo said there were most likely dead bodies in that room - ones that Duo had put there - and so going back in would involve way too many questions. And anyway, they weren't here to cooperate with the police; they were here primarily to break the law and put an end to the threat that had been riding them, that had been crushing them, for the last few years of their lives. Wufei had a sword strapped to his back - a sword that he planned on ramming between Gael's ribs and so making his presence known to the cops crawling all over the place really wasn't... But damnit, he needed to get a closer look!  
  
Behind him, Duo was whispering softly to Heero, asking him again if he was sure that the police were here because they believed what Heero had shown them on his laptop, that they were really here to shut Gael down, not to kill Duo Maxwell the second they saw him. Heero assured him again that, yes, the police really were on their side this time, that when Wufei and Heero had shown up at the station, dirty, desperate, and in a tremendous rush, the officer they'd spoken to had sat them down and taken what they'd said and believed it and then acted upon it. The officers who'd attacked Duo had clearly been some of those under Gael's thumb. Heero explained that the officer he'd spoken to had ordered pretty much the entire force out to Gael's mansion to try and prove who exactly was working for Gael and who wasn't.  
  
Duo was finding this very difficult to believe. Wufei didn't blame him. The whole thing had happened rather suddenly in Wufei's mind as well. Heero and he hadn't spoken on the way to the station, and Heero had done all the talking once they'd gotten there, explaining everything he'd gathered to the officer he'd determined to be trustworthy months ago, back when their plan of escape had sent only a distant thrill of excitement down their spines - before it'd loomed over them all, casting them all in shadow.  
  
Anyway, the officer's name was Elsa. She was very nice. She'd been working on bringing Gael down for years, but somehow could never pin anything on him. Wufei had felt like snapping that the reason for this was probably that about one third of the city's police department actually worked for Gael. But he didn't think she'd appreciate hearing that from him, and he didn't think Heero would have appreciate it, and it wouldn't have helped them to get out of the station any faster, and that had been his main concern because Duo was gone, possibly dead and they had to find him and sitting still while Heero spoke with her had been probably one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do.  
  
But he was able to do it simply because he knew that as soon as they left the station, it would all be over, one way or another. Heero and he were storming the castle, either to find Duo and escape or to meet some other end avenging him. The options before him had narrowed to those two. If Duo was alive, then they all would live. If he was...   
  
Well, he hadn't needed to take that path, so no sense thinking about it now. Duo was alive. They'd found him. He'd returned Duo's sword to him, and while the brutal words they'd exchanged that morning were still fresh in his mind, Duo didn't appear to be holding a grudge. This left him secure in the knowledge that they would all live through what they were about to do. If not one, then the other. Duo was not dead, so they would live.  
  
And now the police were moving out - the officers and a whole troop of medics with two, three, four... five stretchers making their way towards the elevators down the hall. The three hustlers backed away from the solemn line of people and stretchers, disappearing into the dark, only able to make out distorted shadows and glimmers in the erratic beams of the flashlights. Wufei watched the bodies rolling by and felt his throat go dry just as Duo's whispered his fears behind him.  
  
"Jesus, there's five of'em. What if Quatre or Trowa... how do we know if they're on one of those?"  
  
Wufei turned to see Duo's dim silhouette against the wall. "None of them were small enough to be Quatre," he rationalized. "He's shaped like a 12-year-old."  
  
He spun around when he heard a loud thud, one of the stretchers hitting a doorway, snagging the sheet and dragging it off the body. The medics cursed as the stretcher's momentum jerked the body to the side, rolling it toward the young men hidden in the shadows. Wufei's lip curled as he saw the body, his middle sliced open with what had to have been a switch-blade. The wound was jagged and deep and as the dead man fell sideways, a grisly mess sloshed out, filling the air with the distinctive cutting smell of digestive fluid and blood. Behind him, Duo made a small choking sound and disappeared. Heero glanced after him, hand over his nose and mouth to block the smell. Wufei inhaled through his mouth, but it didn't help. As the medics struggled to right the body and cover it, one of the officers spoke softly to another holding the elevator door open.  
  
"Keep searching for the boys who did this and their boss. He's still on the premises somewhere. We'll ID these bodies when that's straightened out."  
  
Wufei turned to Heero and saw his smirk mirrored in lips pressed firmly together. "Let's find Duo and then find him," he murmured, heading in the direction their lover had taken.  
  
They found him back in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up what little was in his stomach. Wufei flinched away from such obvious weakness in the face of another person's death. Sure it was grisly, but how could Duo have such a delicate constitution as to- Then he gave himself a good mental shake. This was Duo, and his lover was not like any other kid he'd ever met. This was Duo who'd been on his own from the very beginning, who'd doubtless born witness to much worse as a child trying to scrape by in Downtown. Then as a young adult, he'd experienced a different kind of brutality, the kind that didn't result in messy piles of viscera, or even cuts and bruises - the kind that wormed its way inside a person's head and stuck there and twisted all original perceptions of self-worth and integrity and pride. That kind of brutality had led them to the fight they'd had that morning. No, Duo wasn't sick because he'd seen a dead person. Duo was on his knees, not because of the smell, but because he'd put that body on that stretcher.  
  
Heero reached down to lay a hand on Duo's back, but the hustler's shoulders jerked away from him. "Get off," he murmured, voice hollow.  
  
Wufei's mind flashed back to their desperate flight through the city the week before. Dozens of Gael's muscle had come after them that night, with guns and blades. Duo had even been smacked by a car, Gael was so intent on getting a hold of him. Both Wufei and Heero had killed that night, ended the lives of over a dozen men. Duo had fought beside them with equal skill and grace... but he hadn't killed. Wufei remembered running away as their attackers called after them, unable to give chase because of sliced up knees or broken legs or collar bones. Duo had been exceptionally careful. But Wufei guessed that he'd been forced to kill tonight, to save his own life, perhaps to save Quatre's or Trowa's as well.  
  
Heero held the flashlight loosely, the beam aimed at the tile floor. Duo spit a few more times and leaned back on his knees, hands on his thighs. His breathing was a bit off and Wufei felt an urge - most likely quite similar to Heero's - to run his hand along that knobby spine and offer some form of reassurance.  
  
Instead, clumsy words fell from his mouth. "It's okay... the first time I took another person's life I couldn't sleep for-"  
  
"Fuck you. This wasn't my first time." He kept his head down, and remained perfectly still, most likely in an effort to keep his stomach under control. But his words cut the dark air, measured and steady, and not entirely voluntary. "Happened just like last time. Seeing the body... it was a thing, not a person. I saw the life I took, and did the same thing - tossed my lunch all over Heero's pants." Heero didn't react to that, but Duo shifted his weight, sliding carefully backward and drawing his knees up to his chest. He rested his chin on his fist and spoke softly. "I know you're planning on killing Gael. I'm assuming that's why we're not running away right now. And that's fine. If we're going to live; he has to die. I get that. But most of these people... they're just like us, and I can't-" He shook his head sharply and then winced, scrubbing his hand through his bangs. "It's just like that other time, the only other time."  
  
Wufei realized Duo was staring at Heero, and Heero was staring right back. Their eyes and thoughts were locked in memory as again Duo spoke. "Those kids were our age, maybe a little older, all starving, all driven out of their minds by the cold and the pain in their bellies, all twisted and angry at us, the wrong people. But we were the only ones they could beat. We were smaller and younger and healthier, and there were so many of them."  
  
"Wufei knows about them," Heero murmured, eyes still wide and staring as Duo continued like he hadn't heard him speak.  
  
"I remember looking at them blankly... like they weren't real when they filed into our squat in a neat little line, like soldiers, like they'd planned it. They had pieces of metal and wood and glass in their hands. I was sitting there in my sleeping bag, stuck. I just watched when they dragged you out and stood you on your feet and demanded everything we had. Clothes, blankets, sleeping bags, the radio, our pots and cook stove, my paints and pencils, our books, and our shoes... our skateboards. I remember you didn't say anything, just shook your head, no. Like they were going to listen to you. They should have, right?"  
  
Heero's mouth twitched, though he shuddered as Duo described what happened next. "It was so cold and fast and ugly, what you did. It was that sound, hearing their necks break that finally got me out of my stupid sleeping bag. I saw you go down underneath them. I saw them hitting you and suddenly everything was very clear. I could see their clumsy frozen fingers coming at me and I could dodge them, and I didn't slip even though I didn't have any shoes on, just my wool socks that I'd stolen from one of those expensive outdoor stores. I climbed over them to get to you, and that wire that you always said was stupid, that I always carried around in my hair, thinking I'd have the guts to use it some day - I pulled it out of my hair as I shoved them off you. You were on the floor, bleeding all over the place with pieces of glass stuck in your arms and your back. I remember thinking that this was probably what insanity felt like when I stood over you and grabbed this kid by his shirt and spun him around so I could get my wire around his neck. I was looking him right in the eye. He didn't even know what was happening, didn't know what he had around his neck - that wire's so thin. I pulled hard and his eyes got really big and I pulled again, and there wasn't a lot of blood or anything, just choking and clawing and panic and then he was dead. I pulled the wire free and watched him drop and then puked my guts out all over you as they dragged me away. When I saw you watching them break both my arms, I thought for sure that this was one of those insane moments that you forget right after it's over, because it's just that fucked up. I thought, well, at least I won't remember what I just did and what they're doing to us. But I did remember. Every second of it, exactly what it felt like to kill that kid. There was no 'zone' or 'battle lust' or whatever. I did it all with a very clear head, just like I gutted that guy today. I shot a kid too. He was probably another one of those bodies under the sheet." He took a deep shuddering breath. "So, Heero, we can kill Gael. I could even do it, but I can't-"  
  
Heero lunged forward, shoving Duo backwards and almost upsetting his balance. But Duo caught himself and Heero held him up in a frightening embrace. He clung to his partner and they didn't say anything. Wufei, finally feeling like he could move again, breathed out and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the short ends so they stood up. So, that was exactly how it'd happened. He'd wondered after hearing the abbreviated version from Heero.  
  
He watched them for another few seconds, listening to their breathing, thinking about how truly amazing it would be to lead a normal quiet life with the two of them beside him, not terrified, not injured, not stuck in memories of brutal fights that had scarred them irreparably. He hadn't really thought about the prospect of this future too much up until then for several reasons. First, he'd only been 'with' the two of them in a more serious manner for a few days. And those few days had been pretty intense. Before that, he'd not considered his relationship with Duo to be feasible in the long term. There had been Heero to consider, as well as the fact that they were all hustlers by trade and, therefore, not really able to maintain serious, exclusive relationships. And finally, in his nineteen years of living, and especially in the last two years, the idea of any 'happy,' 'normal' future seemed absurd. No matter what he did to try to get himself turned around, his soul had always pushed against what everyone around him did. Despite every effort, he couldn't be like other people. And he couldn't really be like the two young men in front of him, kneeling together on the floor, but he could be with them. He could go with them. He watched them for those few seconds and decided that he would make sure that they got their chance at 'happy' and 'normal.' And if he fit into that picture, all the better.  
  
+  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Wufei had never heard Heero's voice raised to such a volume.  
  
"Don't run away from me! If you don't stop running, I swear to god this knife is going between your shoulder blades."  
  
Wufei and Duo ran to catch up with him, following the jagged beam of the flashlight as he raced down the hall. They nearly piled into him as he stopped suddenly, shining the light on a figure clad in bright white. The figure was slowly turning, one hand in the air, the other clutching her side. Wufei saw that the white fabric was stained dark red. Pale skin and bright hair shown briefly as Heero searched her features with the light, his blade in hand.  
  
Wufei had not been anticipating this fight. But judging by Heero's posture and tone, they weren't going anywhere until he'd sorted things out with her. And Wufei guessed this wouldn't be accomplished over coffee.  
  
"Wouldn't be very honorable of you to kill a girl when she's running away, would it Heero?" Cecile said softly.  
  
"Why do you think I asked you to turn around? I'm not like you. I don't hurt people when they're helpless."  
  
Cecile limped forward. "You've never been helpless," she murmured. "Even when I had you on the ground, with you skin in my hands, when I sliced you up like paper, you still had power."  
  
Heero took a few more steps forward, blade held in a steady grip, ready to tear downward. They now stood only a few paces apart.  
  
She ran a hand through her hair and brought a slim long knife from somewhere along her spine when her hand came back into view. Judging by the growl rumbling in Heero's chest, he was very familiar with that blade. "Our master wanted you so badly, Heero," she continued. "Especially when I had you like that. It was when I hurt you that you had the most power over him. I hated you for it, but loved that I could make him feel that way just by drawing your blood."  
  
"My emotions were not nearly so complicated," Heero muttered. "I've always hated you both."  
  
She glanced down at her side, removing her palm to check the wound. Apparently satisfied, she looked back up and sighed. "I know that, love. I tried to tell him, too. But he didn't listen to me." She looked over her shoulder into the dark. "Have you seen him recently?" she asked, sounding a little put out.  
  
"Not since he tried blowing my head off," Duo piped up, voice spitting venom.  
  
"Ah, yes, Mr. Barton paid dearly for putting off the inevitable there."  
  
"He came so close to strangling the life out of old Bossman, I could almost taste it. Gael was no match for him. It took some coward with a gun to bring Trowa down and if that hadn't happened we'd-"  
  
She lunged forward, darting to the side, trying to get past Heero to come at Duo. "He would be so happy with me if I gutted you right now," she snarled, fine features suddenly twisted with loathing. "You're nothing to him, nothi-" She grunted as she hit the wall, Heero's full body weight behind the elbow and hip that threw her off course.  
  
"Fight me. Stay the hell away from him," He growled.  
  
She pushed herself to her feet and leaned against the wall. "Is this a fair fight, Heero? I'm not exactly in top form."  
  
He didn't say anything, but raised his blade and stepped into the downward stroke. She dodged to the side but found his fist and the flashlight buried under her ribs.  
  
Wufei heard the air leave her lungs and beside him, Duo winced. Heero struck her again, a blow to the jaw that sent her sprawling. She coughed, trying and failing to breath. Heero approached her as she got to her hands and knees. He raised his blade again and brought it down, aiming for the back of her neck. But she spun, catching the blow on her own blade. Wufei could see her throat working to make some noise, this effort distracting Heero enough that he couldn't step out of the way quick enough as she kicked sharply at his shins. He stumbled back and Wufei automatically surged forward to steady him, but Duo grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt.  
  
"Heero can handle this," he murmured.  
  
And Duo was right. Heero regained his balance and went at her again. Wufei's eyes widened as her body bent and twisted, one hand planted on the floor, feet kicking back over her head, landing a safe distance from her attacker. Heero forced her back again, taking several swipes at her throat and middle. She spun away from him, knife arcing through the air as she went, catching Heero's arm, slicing through fabric and skin. He hissed in pain and then ducked as her heel flew past his chin. He went the rest of the way down and, one hand on the carpet, hit her ankle with his heel. She shouted, landing hard and finally sucking in a gasping breath, blade raised in defense as Heero swung downward. The serrated edge grated along the knife's narrow length. He pressed down harder and twisted, jerking her hand to the side. He kicked the wound in her side and she started screaming at him, cursing both in French and in English.  
  
Wufei watched their battle, measuring each strike for skill and precision. Heero clearly had the upper hand, but that was only because Cecile didn't have her full range of movement. Her side and her leg were steadily bleeding. He tracked the progress of the wounds as the stains on her clothes grew larger. She had more training than Heero and she was considerably more graceful, but Heero was ruthless, and he wasn't giving any ground.  
  
Beside him, Duo's brow had drawn together in a worried frown. He was squeezing his injured shoulder in a white-knuckled fist.  
  
She managed to twist away from him again, sinuously regaining her feet, steel striking steel as he pushed her back. He landed another punch in her wounded side and she lashed out with a violent cry, kicking the flashlight he held in his fist, across the hall. Wufei suddenly could not make out the details of their battle and he stepped forward, Duo right with him.  
  
"He's gonna kill her, Wu."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He shouldn't... "  
  
They heard a strangled cry and a thump. One silhouette disappeared. Wufei could make out Heero's wild hair in the darkness, so he knew Cecile was the one on the ground. They both saw the knife go up and then begin its arc downward. Wufei sucked in a breath. Duo made a noise of indecision and then shouted.  
  
"No, Heero, don't kill her!"  
  
Heero's silhouette hesitated, frozen. They heard a strange noise, slippery and quick. Heero's body jerked once and then his blade slashed downward. Cecile's voice was strangled and messy, gurgling out a few final unintelligible syllables before everything went quiet except for Duo's ragged breathing.  
  
For several moments no one moved. Finally, Wufei forced himself forward, grabbing up the flashlight in slightly trembling fingers. That noise... He had to see what that sound had been. He turned the beam on his partner and felt his heart collapse in on itself. Heero stood very still, one fist gripping his serrated blade, the other tentatively touching the razor-sharp edge of Cecile's long knife where it stuck straight out of his abdomen. But his eyes weren't on the wound. They were locked with Duo's.  
  
"It's okay, Duo," he murmured. "It's not bad."  
  
+  
  
"You should stay with him, Duo. I'll find Gael. I'm the only one who's in any shape to fight." Duo was shaking his head, but Wufei insisted. "I'll take care of it, and then I'll find you."  
  
"No, absolutely not. We're not splitting up," he gritted. He pressed a wad of bandages to Heero's belly with his uninjured arm. Heero'd had the presence of mind to bring a first aid kit in the event that they'd found Duo in need of it. The roles of bandages were coming in handy now. Heero tried to help, propped up in a sitting position, hand lightly resting on top of Duo's. Duo could barely look at him. "We can't afford to split up," he said again. "We lost Trowa and Quatre. We have no idea where they are, and I can't do that with you. I won't. I fucked it up enough already."  
  
"Duo, if Gael finds us like this, he'll go right for the both of you, and I might not be able to defend you. It'd be better if I took the fight to him."  
  
"No way, Chang."  
  
"I agree with Duo," Heero murmured, keeping his voice low. "You can't go off in the dark alone."  
  
"But you're barely mobile!"  
  
"I already said it wasn't bad."  
  
"You have a hole punched in you!"  
  
"It's not very big."  
  
"How big would it have to be for you to sit still and let your partner handle things?"  
  
"Half dollar size at least."  
  
Wufei snorted and then sobered when he saw Duo's expression. His rueful grin faded and he was reaching for Duo before his brain fully registered the utterly stricken look in dry violet eyes.  
  
"It shouldn't even be possible that this kind of thing is happening to us again. And it's my fault. It's all my fault. Neither of you should be here. I shouldn't have been caught. We weren't supposed to rush this plan. We had it all figured out and we're right back where we were six years ago."  
  
"Duo," Heero started.  
  
"I want to forget all this. I want it to be over, so I can forget it ever happened. I want this to be just another scar, one more that doesn't hurt at all, one that I don't know where it came from, because I won't remember this."  
  
Wufei hesitated to actually touch his lover and, in the end, decided not to. He probably would not have reacted well anyway. Gone were all of Duo's considerable talents at smoothing over the trouble, at negotiating, at smiling and putting on a good face, at giving his clients exactly what they wanted. Duo was stripped raw and nothing Wufei did was going to help that situation - nothing short of finishing what they came here to do and then getting Heero to a doctor so that Duo could finally believe them when they claimed that the wound was not life-threatening.  
  
"We need to get moving if we're all going together. No sense waiting for him to find us first." He got to his feet. "Maybe we can find an officer or two along the way who'll get Heero down to an ambulance."  
  
"Oh, let's just keep this in the family. Let's keep it between the four of us."  
  
Wufei turned to see his employer standing behind him, holding Cecile's bloody knife. The man looked perfectly calm, though his shirt was undone at the collar and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked as handsome and as dangerous as ever.  
  
If Wufei was honest with himself - and moments like this required brutal honestly - his first thought was one of utter relief. At last he could do what they came to do. Finally, he could prove himself worthy of the two young men behind him. They were depending on him and finally he could show them his way without fear or guilt or uncertainty. He looked Gael up and down and gave him a satisfied smirk, taking in the natural way the man held the knife.  
  
"Is that your weapon of choice?"  
  
Gael glanced down at the blade in his hand. "For the moment."  
  
Wufei stepped forward and drew his sword. "Good."  
  
+  
  
Just as Cecile had done, Gael rushed his opponent, trying to outflank him and reach the two young men he protected. Their blades clashed and slid together as Wufei kept pace with him. Then he planted his feet and shoved back, sending Gael staggering back a pace.  
  
"Fight me," Wufei said simply.  
  
"Ah, but I told your friends that Duo was dead. I was hoping my employees had succeeded in their orders. Alas, I have to fulfill my own request."  
  
"Don't go near them."  
  
"Or, what, exactly? You'll murder me in cold blood?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
When Gael next spoke, Wufei could tell that he was smiling, though in the darkness he couldn't quite make out his features. "I don't actually want to fight you, Wufei, and I certainly don't want to kill you."  
  
"Then wh-what do you want?" He stuttered and glanced around in surprise as dim red lights clicked on in the corners of the hall.  
  
Gael was really smiling at him now. "My idiot electrician finally got the generator going. I was was quite tired of wandering around in the dark."  
  
"What do you want?" Wufei asked again.  
  
"What I've always wanted from you - service, loyalty, skill... happiness even."  
  
"He wants you and Heero as his personal bodyguards. He wants to own you even more than he does now." Duo spat this out with weary anger. Wufei got the distinct impression his lover had already heard Gael's proposal.  
  
Their employer turned an irritated stare on Duo. "I told Quatre you'd been shot in the back of the head. I plan on doing that myself in a moment."  
  
"That's an excellent way to persuade us to work for you," Wufei sneered.  
  
"As a matter of fact, it is," he said thoughtfully. "Especially knowing what I know about him... and about you, Wufei; about what the two of you did, together."  
  
Wufei's eyes narrowed in suspicion. This conversation was getting them nowhere. He knew how this fight would end and he knew he could win if he could just focus. His sword came up and he darted forward. Their blades met and Gael stepped nimbly back, avoiding a full-on confrontation.  
  
"I know that Duo betrayed Heero, with you. I learned this very interesting piece of information from Mr. Barton, who's been filling me in since the beginning of your sordid relationship." Wufei growled and felt his face grow hot. He didn't dare look over his shoulder at his partners. He had to keep a level head. Gael was only saying things like that to throw him off. His blade darted forward again, and again met steel and was shoved to the side.  
  
"It's true that I want you to serve me - the two of you and perhaps the Winner brat if he can sort out his liver problems and keep his head down. Mr. Barton outlived his usefulness and showed me that his strength of character, his loyalty, was severely lacking. And you, Duo, you've never been anything but the least interesting of the five. A talented and skillful worker to be sure, a moneymaker, but nothing more than a compromised and filthy who-"  
  
Wufei cut off the man's poisonous words with a swift attack, his body and his blade moving as one lethal unit. He kept his lips tightly shut, not wanting to distract himself with a sharp retort defending Duo's honor. What this man thought of them had never really mattered anyway.  
  
"But I can save you, Chang," Gael managed to gasp as he parried each of Wufei's skillful strikes. "Help you tread the righteous path your clan originally meant for you."  
  
"Go to hell," he gritted, spinning and landing a sharp kick to Gael's middle, the side of his foot firmly taking him in the gut. The man staggered back, laughing. He recovered quickly.  
  
"Your clan left you in my care as punishment, but that never really sat right with me. The life I gave you should never have been punitive. You've become stronger than you ever would have been, married off and impregnating your cute little wife. The life I am offering you and Heero now is the warrior's path. And I know you can see that."  
  
As a button-pusher, Gael was indeed skilled. Wufei didn't want to hear about his clan, he didn't want Gael referring to Meiran as his "cute little wife," and he didn't want to think about what a warrior's path would look like as Gael's sword. Nothing he was offering were viable options for him. Wufei could not - was far beyond the point of being able to - walk the path Gael had laid out for him the last two years. He doubted very much that any new path would have been acceptable. But Gael wasn't done yet.  
  
"What you and Duo did to Heero was wrong. You know that. I could help you. I could help you purge the weakness Duo polluted you with. I could make you strong again."  
  
Gael was not convincing him of anything. He wasn't. He wasn't. He. Wasn't.  
  
Wufei shouted his anger and surged forward. Gael spun away from him and he followed. But Cecile's knife was quick and it bit into his arm, the arm that had been injured in the fight to keep Duo from being abducted by the men who'd hit him with their car. The wound had been wide, and Heero hadn't been able to stitch it up. The gash was just beginning to knit back together, fragile tissue reconnecting under an ugly scab. The blade sliced through his shirt and right along the healing bullet wound. He flinched and dropped his shoulder and Gael followed through in his spin, the handle of Cecile's knife crashing into Wufei's jaw. His head snapped back as he staggered and fell, keeping a hold of his sword even as black blotches flooded his vision and blood filled his mouth. Dimly, vaguely, he heard someone shout his name, but he couldn't be sure who leapt up to take his place in the fight to finish what he started. Probably Duo. He tried to focus and thought he saw a long braid swinging out behind a slim figure, but he couldn't be certain. He had an instant, splitting headache, and his stomach lurched when he tried to sit up. His balance was completely off. He spat out a mouthful of blood and closed his eyes to try and regroup. He didn't open them again.  
  
+  
  
"I know everything they did, Heero, every time they betrayed you. They went off together any time they could; sometimes you were even there in the flat. It happened under your nose. They locked themselves in the bathroom and humped like dogs. Duo had to have known how much it would hurt you if you discovered what they were doing."  
  
Wufei heard these words, but they weren't computing. Why was Gael telling Heero this? What was he hoping to accomplish? He didn't try to open his eyes. Something told him doing so wouldn't help. He couldn't get his head around any of it, and more importantly, as he shoved himself up on his elbows, he realized he could barely sit up. He spit out another mouthful of blood and felt around his mouth, ascertaining that all his teeth were still there. His tongue caught on a chipped molar.  
  
Duo was shouting, flinging himself at Gael. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"  
  
He cracked one eye and found dim silhouettes dancing in front of him. He had to be seeing things. His vision was blurred and painful, but he was sure he saw Duo flipping into one of his stupid cartwheels - one handed this time - pulling out of it half way and striking Gael full in the chest with both feet. How could he... he must be hallucinating. They both crashed to the floor and Duo was on his feet in a second, powerful legs striking their fallen employer again and again."  
  
"They probably fucked in your room while you were out getting groceries." A grunt of pain. "Or worse. While you were working, letting another man have your body for an hour, they were together, in your room."  
  
Wufei squinted and saw Heero crawling towards Duo and Gael, face set and grim.  
  
"For months, Heero, they lied to you."  
  
"Shut up!" Duo shouted again, pressing his foot down on Gael's chest, raising his short sword. Wufei blinked, or at least he thought he blinked, but maybe he blacked out again, because when he next opened his eyes, Gael was standing up and Duo had a hand wrapped around a slice in his leg. Wufei struggled into a sitting position, pulling himself up with the help of his sword. His vision refused to come into focus, and he knew that his brain must have had a pretty nasty run-in with his skull if he still couldn't see straight. A few paces away, Heero was engaged in a similar struggle, though he'd retreated to the wall and was now using it to lever himself to his feet. Wufei must have blacked out if Heero had given up trying to get to Duo on hands and knees, and had crawled back to the wall to hoist himself up that way. He couldn't have done that in one blink.  
  
Wufei realized that neither of them would be much use to Duo at this rate. His gaze swung sluggishly back to the fight in the dimly lit hall. He smiled grimly. Duo was winning.  
  
Even with one arm tucked uselessly in a sling, he was beating Gael. Their employer fell back under the onslaught of quick slashes and probing strikes. Wufei admired Duo's seemingly chaotic fighting style, as his lover very systematically drove Gael closer and closer to the wall. As Wufei finally managed to get himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his sword, he watched, holding his breath as, again, Duo's long legs kicked out, knocking the blade from Gael's hand. Duo's mouth twisted in a feral grin as he twisted gracefully, coiling his body for one last vicious strike that would free them all. He drove the blade upward and in, feet firmly planted.  
  
The events transpiring in front of Wufei were shuddering forward at an odd pace, rimmed in black, as though shuffling through a viewfinder that he held in front of his eyes. Again, he swore that he only blinked once, but suddenly Duo cried out, harsh and surprised. Gael had him by the braid and had somehow managed to get his injured arm tangled up in the thick rope of hair. Duo dropped to his knees, helpless, as Gael jerked on the braid, twisting the arm upward at a frightening angle. Wufei took a hesitant step forward as Duo's forehead touched the carpet, chin resting on his knees, mouth open, breathing ragged, arm held up, twisted in his own hair. Wufei's eyes drifted slowly up to see a gun aimed at the base of Duo's braid.  
  
Where had that come from... Oh. His brain stumbled backward.  
  
..."Is that your weapon of choice?"  
  
..."For the moment."  
  
Gael was watching Wufei draw nearer. "I am not a person you can beat. Three of you could not take me down. Duo certainly can not." He jerked on Duo's arm, and the tension holding the young man's body rigid suddenly loosened. He'd passed out. "The two of you are injured, but you will recover. This is your last chance. Let me help you, shelter you, and provide for you. Serve me and you will never have to service another john, never have to fight for another meal, never have to freeze through another winter. The three of us can rebuild after this disaster. With the both of you at my side, we will own this city."  
  
His jaw hurt far too much to try and formulate a response, but Heero was not speechless. He shuffled forward, serrated blade held loosely in his right hand, his left clutching his middle.  
  
"Drop the knife, Heero," Gael warned, resting the gun on the back of Duo's head. Instantly, Heero dropped the knife.  
  
"Yes," he said softly. "Just let him go. Don't hurt him anymore. We'll come with you."  
  
If he could have moved it, Wufei's jaw would have fallen open.  
  
"If you hurt him more than you just have, we will never follow you. If you kill him, we will find you in your sleep and rip your throat open. But if you let him go right now, we'll go with you. We'll serve you."  
  
Wufei watched Gael watching Heero, his dark eyes roaming up and down Heero's lean form. "And all I needed to do was put a gun to Duo's head?"  
  
"His life for ours. I swear it."  
  
Wufei wondered whether what he was hearing could be accurate. Perhaps his ears were messed up too.  
  
"And you, Heero. What will you do for me? You killed my Cecile, and she did many things for me."  
  
Heero swallowed several times. Though Wufei couldn't see much of anything right the moment, he could see Duo's death in Heero's eyes. He could see that his partner had already weighed his own life against their lover's. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out.  
  
"I will serve you in whatever way you require, if you let him go free. Wufei will, as well."  
  
"But-" Wufei's tongue was sluggish.  
  
Heero turned to him. "He's going to kill him, Chang."  
  
Wufei took another step forward, apologizing to his sword and his ancestors for using his weapon as a walking stick. Gael's finger tightened on the trigger.  
  
"Chang!"  
  
"... I can't..." He didn't know how to finish his sentence. He couldn't keep doing this. "This" was over. He stared at Heero, or at least the blur that he knew was Heero, and tried to convey the futility of the bargain he was seeking to strike. But he didn't know exactly how to tell Heero that he had reached the very end of what he could do. He could not serve Gael any more, even if it meant that Duo... even if Heero... "He's going to kill him anyway," he finally managed to whisper. "I'm sorry He-"  
  
He caught a blur of movement to his left and carefully turning his head, he saw a flash of bright color, turned red in the dim light of the backup bulbs. Gael caught it too and swung the gun around, dragging Duo with him. Their lover was still unconscious, though his features were pinched and pale. The gun fired twice, hurting Wufei's ears. He heard it before he saw it, and his sword left his fingers before he had time to think, before he'd really had enough time to center his scattered balance over his own feet. But his blade traveled straight and true. In nearly the same second, Heero scooped up his knife and surged forward. Even as Gael fell, pierced through by two of Quatre's knives and Wufei's sword, Heero brought his weapon down with terrible force, slicing the hand that still gripped Duo's braid clean through at the wrist. Their employer was dead before he hit the ground.  
  
Wufei stared and breathed. And didn't believe that what had just happened was the truth. He blinked and found himself on his knees. He sought the body in the middle of the hall and found that it was still there.  
  
A few paces away, Heero was dragging Duo away from Gael, tugging on his uninjured arm and breathing heavily. Wufei heard him collapse. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from the grisly sight - beginning to believe that his blurred vision was not in fact tricking him - to see Quatre swaying slightly on his feet, right arm hanging limply at his side, left poised over another dagger. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor, and it was smeared across both his cheeks like warpaint. Wufei raised an eyebrow but thought better of any snide comment about the boy's appearance. His face hurt too much. Without his sword for balance, even on his knees, a wave of dizziness swept through him, and he dropped willingly to the floor before it could come up and smack him in his already bruised chin. Heero rolled onto his side and let out a pained breath.  
  
"Fuck, that hurt."  
  
"Bit of overkill, slicing off his hand," Quatre murmured by way of greeting, wandering over to them.  
  
Wufei thought it an odd thing to say. But then, speech was beyond him at the moment.  
  
Heero shrugged and protectively draped an arm across Duo's middle. "I didn't know if he'd be able to..."  
  
"Bight like the wolf whose head was cut off?" A small smile played at the scarred corner of Quatre's mouth, lessening the severity of his features.  
  
Heero hesitated. "...Yeah."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
Wufei's ears perked up when he heard Duo groan and then curse skillfully in Spanish, French, and Chinese. He recognized the few expletives he'd taught his lover, back when they'd still been locking themselves in the bathroom and hiding in the empty stacks at the library in an effort to find time to be alone. That time was distant and shrouded in fog. Had it even happened? He looked now at his two lovers and he felt that the bond between them had surely been forged in one of the great furnaces that had given birth to the rest of the world.  
  
But, no, the fog probably only existed in his brain. The memories he had of Duo and his secretive relationship were real, if not as immediate as what he now faced with both young men. At these memories, he turned guiltily to Heero. Wufei had no idea how Gael knew that he and Duo had been together all those months, avoiding Heero, excluding him so they could be with each other. They'd been selfish and foolish and cruel, but they'd also been desperate. And then they'd been happy. And while Wufei regretted letting it go on so long before finally cluing Heero in - or rather, letting the whole thing slip to him - he didn't want to take back a single day that he'd spent with Duo. But he still felt some form of apology was in order. He crawled closer to the them just as Heero helped Duo into a sitting position, gently putting his abused arm back in the sling.  
  
Duo looked up at him as he approached and his pained expression instantly softened. "Hey, Wu." Then he spotted Quatre and his eyes widened as the boy dropped down onto the carpet with the rest of them, sitting cross-legged and holding his arm.  
  
"Q! Where'd you come from?" His eyes dropped to the blood oozing between pale fingers. "And what the hell happened to your arm?"  
  
Quatre gestured vaguely behind him. "I came from... that way. And I got shot at some point before that, though I can't exactly remember..."  
  
"Where's Trowa? Is he okay?"  
  
At the mention of that name, Quatre seemed to come out of his daze. He glanced over his shoulder, as though to make sure that Gael was well and truly dead, and then turned back. "I don't- actually know. He should be at the hospital now. I watched them take him away. He asked me to stay to finish all this, and..." He looked up at Duo, hesitating slightly. "And Gael said you'd been killed, shot in the back of the head. But, clearly you're not. Dead, that is."  
  
Duo shrugged one shoulder. "Wishful thinking on his part."  
  
"Trowa told me to tell you something before he left, and I can't remember all of it, but mainly he said he was sorry. He never told Gael about our plan for escape. He said that secret was safe, but he did tell Gael everything about you and Wu-" He stopped abruptly and looked at the floor.  
  
If Wufei's face hadn't already been red and swollen, he would have been blushing fiercely.  
  
"It's okay," Heero said, not looking at any of them. "You're not giving anything away."  
  
"Well, he said he was sorry about that," Quatre finished, looking rather uncomfortable.  
  
Wufei gave his jaw an experimental nudge with his thumb and forefinger and found that he could move it a bit without excruciating pain.  
  
"I'm sorry, too, Heero," he said, not much above a whisper.  
  
His partner eyed him a bit warily and his heart sank. He didn't know what that look meant; whether Gael rubbing his and Duo's clandestine relationship in Heero's face had ruined whatever chance the three of them had together, or whether he was just tired and hurt and not looking at anyone with a kind eye right then. Just because their bonds had been forged in some ancient furnace didn't mean that Heero couldn't hate his guts.  
  
"Tell me that again when I won't feel guilty for punching you in the chin." Heero said it gruffly but without anger, and Wufei relaxed slightly. A physical fight he could handle... later. Much later. But there was one question still bothering him, and he needed to ask it regardless of the repercussions for his jaw.  
  
"...Did you see Quatre coming when you offered our lives for Duo's? I mean, were you just buying him some time to get within range? Or... were you serious about what you said?"  
  
Duo glanced between them, eyes wide. "Heero, you did what?"  
  
Quatre looked on with great interest.  
  
"Which answer would you prefer?" Heero asked with at tired smile.  
  
"Which one do you think I'd prefer, Yuy?" Wufei gritted.  
  
They all turned at the sound of several people approaching. None of the four of them considered getting up to run. They wouldn't have gotten far. As the first officers entered the room, Heero glanced at Wufei, looking relieved that he didn't have to answer. "Oh, look. It's the police."


	33. (Wufei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**32\. Wufei**

So bury me in wood and I will splinter  
Bury me in stone and I will quake  
Bury me in water and I will geyser  
Bury me in fire and I will phoenix  
I'm gonna phoenix  
_\- Smog "Say Valley Maker"_  
  
Wufei stood with his ear to the bathroom door, listening for any sign of activity outside as Duo washed up in the sink. The sound of water against enamel seemed ridiculously loud to his ears, but he kept his mouth shut. Heero had rested their light on the ledge in front of the mirror and was gently re-braiding Duo's hair, combing through it as best he could with his fingers while their lover scrubbed at his bloody face with a wad of wet paper towels. He winced as his lip started bleeding again and Heero's whisper was loud in the tiled room. "Careful Duo. Don't injure yourself any further." Duo grunted and continued to ruthlessly rub at the dried blood on his chin.  
  
Finally, when he was done cleaning up and Heero was finished tying back his hair, Duo leaned down and took a long drink from the faucet. Wufei realized that with all the excitement throughout the day, he'd probably gotten quite dehydrated. He splashed another handful of water over his face and then straightened, turning off the faucet and scrubbing back his bangs with one hand. His dampened hair stood up at odd angles for a moment before he flattened it with another swipe of his hand.  
  
"So... " he started. "You boys wanna tell me why there are cops crawling all over this joint or should I keep guessing about why the two of you and they showed up at roughly the same time?"  
  
Heero looked at the floor and Wufei turned his attention to listening for noises outside.  
  
"We didn't know where you'd gone," Heero whispered finally. "We didn't think you'd just... disappear. I knew you wouldn't do that."  
  
Wufei flinched slightly. He and Heero had been quite the disaster, trying to determine what they should do when they'd realized Duo wasn't coming back. Wufei was convinced that he'd driven Duo off with his cruel temper - driven him to leave them for good. And Heero was certain that something had happened to keep him away. He assured Wufei that Duo would never be so cowardly. He said that Duo ran and hid but he never abandoned those he loved.  
  
Either way, they'd needed to find Duo - immediately. They knew that it wasn't safe for him to be out and about and visible. So, they'd gone directly to the police, both to enlist their help in finding him, and to hand over copies of everything Heero had accumulated over the last several months in his careful, silent attempt at sabotage.  
  
"We needed help finding you," Heero continued. "So we went to the police and told them that we thought you were probably here, taken against your will."  
  
Duo snorted. "The four cops I ran into didn't look like they had any interest in helping me out."  
  
"We also told them that a significant percentage of their force was actually working for Gael. We told them which ones we suspected, and the officer I spoke with said she'd take care of it." He paused and scratched the back of his head, looking nervous - or at least as nervous as Heero Yuy ever looked. "Then we told them everything else. We handed it all over to the police. It wasn't going to get us anywhere if all Gael had to do was snatch you out from under our noses."  
  
Wufei turned from the door and glared at Duo. "When Heero says 'we,' he means just him. I didn't open my mouth once."  
  
"Whatever came out wouldn't have been constructive," Heero muttered. "You'd only have scared people or gotten yourself locked up somewhere."  
  
Wufei watched the grin start at the corner of Duo's mouth and slowly spread across his face. He felt his mouth twitch in reply. Heero was watching Duo as well and Wufei had never seen such a clear broadcasting of the depth of his two friends' relationship. Perhaps it was because the bathroom was so dark that Heero felt he could let such naked emotions out. Perhaps he was just that relieved to see Duo standing in front of them, very much alive and not too severely injured. Whichever it was, Wufei was glad he got to see it. 'We are all stronger together,' he thought. He was beginning to believe it.  
  
Duo's grin faded and he reached up to rub his shoulder. "So... you guys didn't meet any trouble when you went to the police station? No one was... waiting for you, or anything? No firing squad?"  
  
Heero shook his head, looking confused. "Why? Should there have been?"  
  
Duo's hand traveled from his shoulder down to his elbow. "... No. No, I guess not. ... Just wondering." A strange silence fell between them and Wufei wanted to ask just what Duo had seen in the hours he'd been kept here, what he'd been led to believe while Gael hurt him and threatened him and tried to kill him. Then Duo shook his head quickly and gave them a forced smile. "So, what now?"  
  
+  
  
He couldn't get a good look at the room Duo said Quatre and Trowa should still be in, and this was really pissing him off. There were police everywhere. He supposed he could just walk up to them and ask where Trowa and Quatre were, but Duo said there were most likely dead bodies in that room - ones that Duo had put there - and so going back in would involve way too many questions. And anyway, they weren't here to cooperate with the police; they were here primarily to break the law and put an end to the threat that had been riding them, that had been crushing them, for the last few years of their lives. Wufei had a sword strapped to his back - a sword that he planned on ramming between Gael's ribs and so making his presence known to the cops crawling all over the place really wasn't... But damnit, he needed to get a closer look!  
  
Behind him, Duo was whispering softly to Heero, asking him again if he was sure that the police were here because they believed what Heero had shown them on his laptop, that they were really here to shut Gael down, not to kill Duo Maxwell the second they saw him. Heero assured him again that, yes, the police really were on their side this time, that when Wufei and Heero had shown up at the station, dirty, desperate, and in a tremendous rush, the officer they'd spoken to had sat them down and taken what they'd said and believed it and then acted upon it. The officers who'd attacked Duo had clearly been some of those under Gael's thumb. Heero explained that the officer he'd spoken to had ordered pretty much the entire force out to Gael's mansion to try and prove who exactly was working for Gael and who wasn't.  
  
Duo was finding this very difficult to believe. Wufei didn't blame him. The whole thing had happened rather suddenly in Wufei's mind as well. Heero and he hadn't spoken on the way to the station, and Heero had done all the talking once they'd gotten there, explaining everything he'd gathered to the officer he'd determined to be trustworthy months ago, back when their plan of escape had sent only a distant thrill of excitement down their spines - before it'd loomed over them all, casting them all in shadow.  
  
Anyway, the officer's name was Elsa. She was very nice. She'd been working on bringing Gael down for years, but somehow could never pin anything on him. Wufei had felt like snapping that the reason for this was probably that about one third of the city's police department actually worked for Gael. But he didn't think she'd appreciate hearing that from him, and he didn't think Heero would have appreciate it, and it wouldn't have helped them to get out of the station any faster, and that had been his main concern because Duo was gone, possibly dead and they had to find him and sitting still while Heero spoke with her had been probably one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do.  
  
But he was able to do it simply because he knew that as soon as they left the station, it would all be over, one way or another. Heero and he were storming the castle, either to find Duo and escape or to meet some other end avenging him. The options before him had narrowed to those two. If Duo was alive, then they all would live. If he was...   
  
Well, he hadn't needed to take that path, so no sense thinking about it now. Duo was alive. They'd found him. He'd returned Duo's sword to him, and while the brutal words they'd exchanged that morning were still fresh in his mind, Duo didn't appear to be holding a grudge. This left him secure in the knowledge that they would all live through what they were about to do. If not one, then the other. Duo was not dead, so they would live.  
  
And now the police were moving out - the officers and a whole troop of medics with two, three, four... five stretchers making their way towards the elevators down the hall. The three hustlers backed away from the solemn line of people and stretchers, disappearing into the dark, only able to make out distorted shadows and glimmers in the erratic beams of the flashlights. Wufei watched the bodies rolling by and felt his throat go dry just as Duo's whispered his fears behind him.  
  
"Jesus, there's five of'em. What if Quatre or Trowa... how do we know if they're on one of those?"  
  
Wufei turned to see Duo's dim silhouette against the wall. "None of them were small enough to be Quatre," he rationalized. "He's shaped like a 12-year-old."  
  
He spun around when he heard a loud thud, one of the stretchers hitting a doorway, snagging the sheet and dragging it off the body. The medics cursed as the stretcher's momentum jerked the body to the side, rolling it toward the young men hidden in the shadows. Wufei's lip curled as he saw the body, his middle sliced open with what had to have been a switch-blade. The wound was jagged and deep and as the dead man fell sideways, a grisly mess sloshed out, filling the air with the distinctive cutting smell of digestive fluid and blood. Behind him, Duo made a small choking sound and disappeared. Heero glanced after him, hand over his nose and mouth to block the smell. Wufei inhaled through his mouth, but it didn't help. As the medics struggled to right the body and cover it, one of the officers spoke softly to another holding the elevator door open.  
  
"Keep searching for the boys who did this and their boss. He's still on the premises somewhere. We'll ID these bodies when that's straightened out."  
  
Wufei turned to Heero and saw his smirk mirrored in lips pressed firmly together. "Let's find Duo and then find him," he murmured, heading in the direction their lover had taken.  
  
They found him back in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up what little was in his stomach. Wufei flinched away from such obvious weakness in the face of another person's death. Sure it was grisly, but how could Duo have such a delicate constitution as to- Then he gave himself a good mental shake. This was Duo, and his lover was not like any other kid he'd ever met. This was Duo who'd been on his own from the very beginning, who'd doubtless born witness to much worse as a child trying to scrape by in Downtown. Then as a young adult, he'd experienced a different kind of brutality, the kind that didn't result in messy piles of viscera, or even cuts and bruises - the kind that wormed its way inside a person's head and stuck there and twisted all original perceptions of self-worth and integrity and pride. That kind of brutality had led them to the fight they'd had that morning. No, Duo wasn't sick because he'd seen a dead person. Duo was on his knees, not because of the smell, but because he'd put that body on that stretcher.  
  
Heero reached down to lay a hand on Duo's back, but the hustler's shoulders jerked away from him. "Get off," he murmured, voice hollow.  
  
Wufei's mind flashed back to their desperate flight through the city the week before. Dozens of Gael's muscle had come after them that night, with guns and blades. Duo had even been smacked by a car, Gael was so intent on getting a hold of him. Both Wufei and Heero had killed that night, ended the lives of over a dozen men. Duo had fought beside them with equal skill and grace... but he hadn't killed. Wufei remembered running away as their attackers called after them, unable to give chase because of sliced up knees or broken legs or collar bones. Duo had been exceptionally careful. But Wufei guessed that he'd been forced to kill tonight, to save his own life, perhaps to save Quatre's or Trowa's as well.  
  
Heero held the flashlight loosely, the beam aimed at the tile floor. Duo spit a few more times and leaned back on his knees, hands on his thighs. His breathing was a bit off and Wufei felt an urge - most likely quite similar to Heero's - to run his hand along that knobby spine and offer some form of reassurance.  
  
Instead, clumsy words fell from his mouth. "It's okay... the first time I took another person's life I couldn't sleep for-"  
  
"Fuck you. This wasn't my first time." He kept his head down, and remained perfectly still, most likely in an effort to keep his stomach under control. But his words cut the dark air, measured and steady, and not entirely voluntary. "Happened just like last time. Seeing the body... it was a thing, not a person. I saw the life I took, and did the same thing - tossed my lunch all over Heero's pants." Heero didn't react to that, but Duo shifted his weight, sliding carefully backward and drawing his knees up to his chest. He rested his chin on his fist and spoke softly. "I know you're planning on killing Gael. I'm assuming that's why we're not running away right now. And that's fine. If we're going to live; he has to die. I get that. But most of these people... they're just like us, and I can't-" He shook his head sharply and then winced, scrubbing his hand through his bangs. "It's just like that other time, the only other time."  
  
Wufei realized Duo was staring at Heero, and Heero was staring right back. Their eyes and thoughts were locked in memory as again Duo spoke. "Those kids were our age, maybe a little older, all starving, all driven out of their minds by the cold and the pain in their bellies, all twisted and angry at us, the wrong people. But we were the only ones they could beat. We were smaller and younger and healthier, and there were so many of them."  
  
"Wufei knows about them," Heero murmured, eyes still wide and staring as Duo continued like he hadn't heard him speak.  
  
"I remember looking at them blankly... like they weren't real when they filed into our squat in a neat little line, like soldiers, like they'd planned it. They had pieces of metal and wood and glass in their hands. I was sitting there in my sleeping bag, stuck. I just watched when they dragged you out and stood you on your feet and demanded everything we had. Clothes, blankets, sleeping bags, the radio, our pots and cook stove, my paints and pencils, our books, and our shoes... our skateboards. I remember you didn't say anything, just shook your head, no. Like they were going to listen to you. They should have, right?"  
  
Heero's mouth twitched, though he shuddered as Duo described what happened next. "It was so cold and fast and ugly, what you did. It was that sound, hearing their necks break that finally got me out of my stupid sleeping bag. I saw you go down underneath them. I saw them hitting you and suddenly everything was very clear. I could see their clumsy frozen fingers coming at me and I could dodge them, and I didn't slip even though I didn't have any shoes on, just my wool socks that I'd stolen from one of those expensive outdoor stores. I climbed over them to get to you, and that wire that you always said was stupid, that I always carried around in my hair, thinking I'd have the guts to use it some day - I pulled it out of my hair as I shoved them off you. You were on the floor, bleeding all over the place with pieces of glass stuck in your arms and your back. I remember thinking that this was probably what insanity felt like when I stood over you and grabbed this kid by his shirt and spun him around so I could get my wire around his neck. I was looking him right in the eye. He didn't even know what was happening, didn't know what he had around his neck - that wire's so thin. I pulled hard and his eyes got really big and I pulled again, and there wasn't a lot of blood or anything, just choking and clawing and panic and then he was dead. I pulled the wire free and watched him drop and then puked my guts out all over you as they dragged me away. When I saw you watching them break both my arms, I thought for sure that this was one of those insane moments that you forget right after it's over, because it's just that fucked up. I thought, well, at least I won't remember what I just did and what they're doing to us. But I did remember. Every second of it, exactly what it felt like to kill that kid. There was no 'zone' or 'battle lust' or whatever. I did it all with a very clear head, just like I gutted that guy today. I shot a kid too. He was probably another one of those bodies under the sheet." He took a deep shuddering breath. "So, Heero, we can kill Gael. I could even do it, but I can't-"  
  
Heero lunged forward, shoving Duo backwards and almost upsetting his balance. But Duo caught himself and Heero held him up in a frightening embrace. He clung to his partner and they didn't say anything. Wufei, finally feeling like he could move again, breathed out and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the short ends so they stood up. So, that was exactly how it'd happened. He'd wondered after hearing the abbreviated version from Heero.  
  
He watched them for another few seconds, listening to their breathing, thinking about how truly amazing it would be to lead a normal quiet life with the two of them beside him, not terrified, not injured, not stuck in memories of brutal fights that had scarred them irreparably. He hadn't really thought about the prospect of this future too much up until then for several reasons. First, he'd only been 'with' the two of them in a more serious manner for a few days. And those few days had been pretty intense. Before that, he'd not considered his relationship with Duo to be feasible in the long term. There had been Heero to consider, as well as the fact that they were all hustlers by trade and, therefore, not really able to maintain serious, exclusive relationships. And finally, in his nineteen years of living, and especially in the last two years, the idea of any 'happy,' 'normal' future seemed absurd. No matter what he did to try to get himself turned around, his soul had always pushed against what everyone around him did. Despite every effort, he couldn't be like other people. And he couldn't really be like the two young men in front of him, kneeling together on the floor, but he could be with them. He could go with them. He watched them for those few seconds and decided that he would make sure that they got their chance at 'happy' and 'normal.' And if he fit into that picture, all the better.  
  
+  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Wufei had never heard Heero's voice raised to such a volume.  
  
"Don't run away from me! If you don't stop running, I swear to god this knife is going between your shoulder blades."  
  
Wufei and Duo ran to catch up with him, following the jagged beam of the flashlight as he raced down the hall. They nearly piled into him as he stopped suddenly, shining the light on a figure clad in bright white. The figure was slowly turning, one hand in the air, the other clutching her side. Wufei saw that the white fabric was stained dark red. Pale skin and bright hair shown briefly as Heero searched her features with the light, his blade in hand.  
  
Wufei had not been anticipating this fight. But judging by Heero's posture and tone, they weren't going anywhere until he'd sorted things out with her. And Wufei guessed this wouldn't be accomplished over coffee.  
  
"Wouldn't be very honorable of you to kill a girl when she's running away, would it Heero?" Cecile said softly.  
  
"Why do you think I asked you to turn around? I'm not like you. I don't hurt people when they're helpless."  
  
Cecile limped forward. "You've never been helpless," she murmured. "Even when I had you on the ground, with you skin in my hands, when I sliced you up like paper, you still had power."  
  
Heero took a few more steps forward, blade held in a steady grip, ready to tear downward. They now stood only a few paces apart.  
  
She ran a hand through her hair and brought a slim long knife from somewhere along her spine when her hand came back into view. Judging by the growl rumbling in Heero's chest, he was very familiar with that blade. "Our master wanted you so badly, Heero," she continued. "Especially when I had you like that. It was when I hurt you that you had the most power over him. I hated you for it, but loved that I could make him feel that way just by drawing your blood."  
  
"My emotions were not nearly so complicated," Heero muttered. "I've always hated you both."  
  
She glanced down at her side, removing her palm to check the wound. Apparently satisfied, she looked back up and sighed. "I know that, love. I tried to tell him, too. But he didn't listen to me." She looked over her shoulder into the dark. "Have you seen him recently?" she asked, sounding a little put out.  
  
"Not since he tried blowing my head off," Duo piped up, voice spitting venom.  
  
"Ah, yes, Mr. Barton paid dearly for putting off the inevitable there."  
  
"He came so close to strangling the life out of old Bossman, I could almost taste it. Gael was no match for him. It took some coward with a gun to bring Trowa down and if that hadn't happened we'd-"  
  
She lunged forward, darting to the side, trying to get past Heero to come at Duo. "He would be so happy with me if I gutted you right now," she snarled, fine features suddenly twisted with loathing. "You're nothing to him, nothi-" She grunted as she hit the wall, Heero's full body weight behind the elbow and hip that threw her off course.  
  
"Fight me. Stay the hell away from him," He growled.  
  
She pushed herself to her feet and leaned against the wall. "Is this a fair fight, Heero? I'm not exactly in top form."  
  
He didn't say anything, but raised his blade and stepped into the downward stroke. She dodged to the side but found his fist and the flashlight buried under her ribs.  
  
Wufei heard the air leave her lungs and beside him, Duo winced. Heero struck her again, a blow to the jaw that sent her sprawling. She coughed, trying and failing to breath. Heero approached her as she got to her hands and knees. He raised his blade again and brought it down, aiming for the back of her neck. But she spun, catching the blow on her own blade. Wufei could see her throat working to make some noise, this effort distracting Heero enough that he couldn't step out of the way quick enough as she kicked sharply at his shins. He stumbled back and Wufei automatically surged forward to steady him, but Duo grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt.  
  
"Heero can handle this," he murmured.  
  
And Duo was right. Heero regained his balance and went at her again. Wufei's eyes widened as her body bent and twisted, one hand planted on the floor, feet kicking back over her head, landing a safe distance from her attacker. Heero forced her back again, taking several swipes at her throat and middle. She spun away from him, knife arcing through the air as she went, catching Heero's arm, slicing through fabric and skin. He hissed in pain and then ducked as her heel flew past his chin. He went the rest of the way down and, one hand on the carpet, hit her ankle with his heel. She shouted, landing hard and finally sucking in a gasping breath, blade raised in defense as Heero swung downward. The serrated edge grated along the knife's narrow length. He pressed down harder and twisted, jerking her hand to the side. He kicked the wound in her side and she started screaming at him, cursing both in French and in English.  
  
Wufei watched their battle, measuring each strike for skill and precision. Heero clearly had the upper hand, but that was only because Cecile didn't have her full range of movement. Her side and her leg were steadily bleeding. He tracked the progress of the wounds as the stains on her clothes grew larger. She had more training than Heero and she was considerably more graceful, but Heero was ruthless, and he wasn't giving any ground.  
  
Beside him, Duo's brow had drawn together in a worried frown. He was squeezing his injured shoulder in a white-knuckled fist.  
  
She managed to twist away from him again, sinuously regaining her feet, steel striking steel as he pushed her back. He landed another punch in her wounded side and she lashed out with a violent cry, kicking the flashlight he held in his fist, across the hall. Wufei suddenly could not make out the details of their battle and he stepped forward, Duo right with him.  
  
"He's gonna kill her, Wu."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He shouldn't... "  
  
They heard a strangled cry and a thump. One silhouette disappeared. Wufei could make out Heero's wild hair in the darkness, so he knew Cecile was the one on the ground. They both saw the knife go up and then begin its arc downward. Wufei sucked in a breath. Duo made a noise of indecision and then shouted.  
  
"No, Heero, don't kill her!"  
  
Heero's silhouette hesitated, frozen. They heard a strange noise, slippery and quick. Heero's body jerked once and then his blade slashed downward. Cecile's voice was strangled and messy, gurgling out a few final unintelligible syllables before everything went quiet except for Duo's ragged breathing.  
  
For several moments no one moved. Finally, Wufei forced himself forward, grabbing up the flashlight in slightly trembling fingers. That noise... He had to see what that sound had been. He turned the beam on his partner and felt his heart collapse in on itself. Heero stood very still, one fist gripping his serrated blade, the other tentatively touching the razor-sharp edge of Cecile's long knife where it stuck straight out of his abdomen. But his eyes weren't on the wound. They were locked with Duo's.  
  
"It's okay, Duo," he murmured. "It's not bad."  
  
+  
  
"You should stay with him, Duo. I'll find Gael. I'm the only one who's in any shape to fight." Duo was shaking his head, but Wufei insisted. "I'll take care of it, and then I'll find you."  
  
"No, absolutely not. We're not splitting up," he gritted. He pressed a wad of bandages to Heero's belly with his uninjured arm. Heero'd had the presence of mind to bring a first aid kit in the event that they'd found Duo in need of it. The roles of bandages were coming in handy now. Heero tried to help, propped up in a sitting position, hand lightly resting on top of Duo's. Duo could barely look at him. "We can't afford to split up," he said again. "We lost Trowa and Quatre. We have no idea where they are, and I can't do that with you. I won't. I fucked it up enough already."  
  
"Duo, if Gael finds us like this, he'll go right for the both of you, and I might not be able to defend you. It'd be better if I took the fight to him."  
  
"No way, Chang."  
  
"I agree with Duo," Heero murmured, keeping his voice low. "You can't go off in the dark alone."  
  
"But you're barely mobile!"  
  
"I already said it wasn't bad."  
  
"You have a hole punched in you!"  
  
"It's not very big."  
  
"How big would it have to be for you to sit still and let your partner handle things?"  
  
"Half dollar size at least."  
  
Wufei snorted and then sobered when he saw Duo's expression. His rueful grin faded and he was reaching for Duo before his brain fully registered the utterly stricken look in dry violet eyes.  
  
"It shouldn't even be possible that this kind of thing is happening to us again. And it's my fault. It's all my fault. Neither of you should be here. I shouldn't have been caught. We weren't supposed to rush this plan. We had it all figured out and we're right back where we were six years ago."  
  
"Duo," Heero started.  
  
"I want to forget all this. I want it to be over, so I can forget it ever happened. I want this to be just another scar, one more that doesn't hurt at all, one that I don't know where it came from, because I won't remember this."  
  
Wufei hesitated to actually touch his lover and, in the end, decided not to. He probably would not have reacted well anyway. Gone were all of Duo's considerable talents at smoothing over the trouble, at negotiating, at smiling and putting on a good face, at giving his clients exactly what they wanted. Duo was stripped raw and nothing Wufei did was going to help that situation - nothing short of finishing what they came here to do and then getting Heero to a doctor so that Duo could finally believe them when they claimed that the wound was not life-threatening.  
  
"We need to get moving if we're all going together. No sense waiting for him to find us first." He got to his feet. "Maybe we can find an officer or two along the way who'll get Heero down to an ambulance."  
  
"Oh, let's just keep this in the family. Let's keep it between the four of us."  
  
Wufei turned to see his employer standing behind him, holding Cecile's bloody knife. The man looked perfectly calm, though his shirt was undone at the collar and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked as handsome and as dangerous as ever.  
  
If Wufei was honest with himself - and moments like this required brutal honestly - his first thought was one of utter relief. At last he could do what they came to do. Finally, he could prove himself worthy of the two young men behind him. They were depending on him and finally he could show them his way without fear or guilt or uncertainty. He looked Gael up and down and gave him a satisfied smirk, taking in the natural way the man held the knife.  
  
"Is that your weapon of choice?"  
  
Gael glanced down at the blade in his hand. "For the moment."  
  
Wufei stepped forward and drew his sword. "Good."  
  
+  
  
Just as Cecile had done, Gael rushed his opponent, trying to outflank him and reach the two young men he protected. Their blades clashed and slid together as Wufei kept pace with him. Then he planted his feet and shoved back, sending Gael staggering back a pace.  
  
"Fight me," Wufei said simply.  
  
"Ah, but I told your friends that Duo was dead. I was hoping my employees had succeeded in their orders. Alas, I have to fulfill my own request."  
  
"Don't go near them."  
  
"Or, what, exactly? You'll murder me in cold blood?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
When Gael next spoke, Wufei could tell that he was smiling, though in the darkness he couldn't quite make out his features. "I don't actually want to fight you, Wufei, and I certainly don't want to kill you."  
  
"Then wh-what do you want?" He stuttered and glanced around in surprise as dim red lights clicked on in the corners of the hall.  
  
Gael was really smiling at him now. "My idiot electrician finally got the generator going. I was was quite tired of wandering around in the dark."  
  
"What do you want?" Wufei asked again.  
  
"What I've always wanted from you - service, loyalty, skill... happiness even."  
  
"He wants you and Heero as his personal bodyguards. He wants to own you even more than he does now." Duo spat this out with weary anger. Wufei got the distinct impression his lover had already heard Gael's proposal.  
  
Their employer turned an irritated stare on Duo. "I told Quatre you'd been shot in the back of the head. I plan on doing that myself in a moment."  
  
"That's an excellent way to persuade us to work for you," Wufei sneered.  
  
"As a matter of fact, it is," he said thoughtfully. "Especially knowing what I know about him... and about you, Wufei; about what the two of you did, together."  
  
Wufei's eyes narrowed in suspicion. This conversation was getting them nowhere. He knew how this fight would end and he knew he could win if he could just focus. His sword came up and he darted forward. Their blades met and Gael stepped nimbly back, avoiding a full-on confrontation.  
  
"I know that Duo betrayed Heero, with you. I learned this very interesting piece of information from Mr. Barton, who's been filling me in since the beginning of your sordid relationship." Wufei growled and felt his face grow hot. He didn't dare look over his shoulder at his partners. He had to keep a level head. Gael was only saying things like that to throw him off. His blade darted forward again, and again met steel and was shoved to the side.  
  
"It's true that I want you to serve me - the two of you and perhaps the Winner brat if he can sort out his liver problems and keep his head down. Mr. Barton outlived his usefulness and showed me that his strength of character, his loyalty, was severely lacking. And you, Duo, you've never been anything but the least interesting of the five. A talented and skillful worker to be sure, a moneymaker, but nothing more than a compromised and filthy who-"  
  
Wufei cut off the man's poisonous words with a swift attack, his body and his blade moving as one lethal unit. He kept his lips tightly shut, not wanting to distract himself with a sharp retort defending Duo's honor. What this man thought of them had never really mattered anyway.  
  
"But I can save you, Chang," Gael managed to gasp as he parried each of Wufei's skillful strikes. "Help you tread the righteous path your clan originally meant for you."  
  
"Go to hell," he gritted, spinning and landing a sharp kick to Gael's middle, the side of his foot firmly taking him in the gut. The man staggered back, laughing. He recovered quickly.  
  
"Your clan left you in my care as punishment, but that never really sat right with me. The life I gave you should never have been punitive. You've become stronger than you ever would have been, married off and impregnating your cute little wife. The life I am offering you and Heero now is the warrior's path. And I know you can see that."  
  
As a button-pusher, Gael was indeed skilled. Wufei didn't want to hear about his clan, he didn't want Gael referring to Meiran as his "cute little wife," and he didn't want to think about what a warrior's path would look like as Gael's sword. Nothing he was offering were viable options for him. Wufei could not - was far beyond the point of being able to - walk the path Gael had laid out for him the last two years. He doubted very much that any new path would have been acceptable. But Gael wasn't done yet.  
  
"What you and Duo did to Heero was wrong. You know that. I could help you. I could help you purge the weakness Duo polluted you with. I could make you strong again."  
  
Gael was not convincing him of anything. He wasn't. He wasn't. He. Wasn't.  
  
Wufei shouted his anger and surged forward. Gael spun away from him and he followed. But Cecile's knife was quick and it bit into his arm, the arm that had been injured in the fight to keep Duo from being abducted by the men who'd hit him with their car. The wound had been wide, and Heero hadn't been able to stitch it up. The gash was just beginning to knit back together, fragile tissue reconnecting under an ugly scab. The blade sliced through his shirt and right along the healing bullet wound. He flinched and dropped his shoulder and Gael followed through in his spin, the handle of Cecile's knife crashing into Wufei's jaw. His head snapped back as he staggered and fell, keeping a hold of his sword even as black blotches flooded his vision and blood filled his mouth. Dimly, vaguely, he heard someone shout his name, but he couldn't be sure who leapt up to take his place in the fight to finish what he started. Probably Duo. He tried to focus and thought he saw a long braid swinging out behind a slim figure, but he couldn't be certain. He had an instant, splitting headache, and his stomach lurched when he tried to sit up. His balance was completely off. He spat out a mouthful of blood and closed his eyes to try and regroup. He didn't open them again.  
  
+  
  
"I know everything they did, Heero, every time they betrayed you. They went off together any time they could; sometimes you were even there in the flat. It happened under your nose. They locked themselves in the bathroom and humped like dogs. Duo had to have known how much it would hurt you if you discovered what they were doing."  
  
Wufei heard these words, but they weren't computing. Why was Gael telling Heero this? What was he hoping to accomplish? He didn't try to open his eyes. Something told him doing so wouldn't help. He couldn't get his head around any of it, and more importantly, as he shoved himself up on his elbows, he realized he could barely sit up. He spit out another mouthful of blood and felt around his mouth, ascertaining that all his teeth were still there. His tongue caught on a chipped molar.  
  
Duo was shouting, flinging himself at Gael. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"  
  
He cracked one eye and found dim silhouettes dancing in front of him. He had to be seeing things. His vision was blurred and painful, but he was sure he saw Duo flipping into one of his stupid cartwheels - one handed this time - pulling out of it half way and striking Gael full in the chest with both feet. How could he... he must be hallucinating. They both crashed to the floor and Duo was on his feet in a second, powerful legs striking their fallen employer again and again."  
  
"They probably fucked in your room while you were out getting groceries." A grunt of pain. "Or worse. While you were working, letting another man have your body for an hour, they were together, in your room."  
  
Wufei squinted and saw Heero crawling towards Duo and Gael, face set and grim.  
  
"For months, Heero, they lied to you."  
  
"Shut up!" Duo shouted again, pressing his foot down on Gael's chest, raising his short sword. Wufei blinked, or at least he thought he blinked, but maybe he blacked out again, because when he next opened his eyes, Gael was standing up and Duo had a hand wrapped around a slice in his leg. Wufei struggled into a sitting position, pulling himself up with the help of his sword. His vision refused to come into focus, and he knew that his brain must have had a pretty nasty run-in with his skull if he still couldn't see straight. A few paces away, Heero was engaged in a similar struggle, though he'd retreated to the wall and was now using it to lever himself to his feet. Wufei must have blacked out if Heero had given up trying to get to Duo on hands and knees, and had crawled back to the wall to hoist himself up that way. He couldn't have done that in one blink.  
  
Wufei realized that neither of them would be much use to Duo at this rate. His gaze swung sluggishly back to the fight in the dimly lit hall. He smiled grimly. Duo was winning.  
  
Even with one arm tucked uselessly in a sling, he was beating Gael. Their employer fell back under the onslaught of quick slashes and probing strikes. Wufei admired Duo's seemingly chaotic fighting style, as his lover very systematically drove Gael closer and closer to the wall. As Wufei finally managed to get himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his sword, he watched, holding his breath as, again, Duo's long legs kicked out, knocking the blade from Gael's hand. Duo's mouth twisted in a feral grin as he twisted gracefully, coiling his body for one last vicious strike that would free them all. He drove the blade upward and in, feet firmly planted.  
  
The events transpiring in front of Wufei were shuddering forward at an odd pace, rimmed in black, as though shuffling through a viewfinder that he held in front of his eyes. Again, he swore that he only blinked once, but suddenly Duo cried out, harsh and surprised. Gael had him by the braid and had somehow managed to get his injured arm tangled up in the thick rope of hair. Duo dropped to his knees, helpless, as Gael jerked on the braid, twisting the arm upward at a frightening angle. Wufei took a hesitant step forward as Duo's forehead touched the carpet, chin resting on his knees, mouth open, breathing ragged, arm held up, twisted in his own hair. Wufei's eyes drifted slowly up to see a gun aimed at the base of Duo's braid.  
  
Where had that come from... Oh. His brain stumbled backward.  
  
..."Is that your weapon of choice?"  
  
..."For the moment."  
  
Gael was watching Wufei draw nearer. "I am not a person you can beat. Three of you could not take me down. Duo certainly can not." He jerked on Duo's arm, and the tension holding the young man's body rigid suddenly loosened. He'd passed out. "The two of you are injured, but you will recover. This is your last chance. Let me help you, shelter you, and provide for you. Serve me and you will never have to service another john, never have to fight for another meal, never have to freeze through another winter. The three of us can rebuild after this disaster. With the both of you at my side, we will own this city."  
  
His jaw hurt far too much to try and formulate a response, but Heero was not speechless. He shuffled forward, serrated blade held loosely in his right hand, his left clutching his middle.  
  
"Drop the knife, Heero," Gael warned, resting the gun on the back of Duo's head. Instantly, Heero dropped the knife.  
  
"Yes," he said softly. "Just let him go. Don't hurt him anymore. We'll come with you."  
  
If he could have moved it, Wufei's jaw would have fallen open.  
  
"If you hurt him more than you just have, we will never follow you. If you kill him, we will find you in your sleep and rip your throat open. But if you let him go right now, we'll go with you. We'll serve you."  
  
Wufei watched Gael watching Heero, his dark eyes roaming up and down Heero's lean form. "And all I needed to do was put a gun to Duo's head?"  
  
"His life for ours. I swear it."  
  
Wufei wondered whether what he was hearing could be accurate. Perhaps his ears were messed up too.  
  
"And you, Heero. What will you do for me? You killed my Cecile, and she did many things for me."  
  
Heero swallowed several times. Though Wufei couldn't see much of anything right the moment, he could see Duo's death in Heero's eyes. He could see that his partner had already weighed his own life against their lover's. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out.  
  
"I will serve you in whatever way you require, if you let him go free. Wufei will, as well."  
  
"But-" Wufei's tongue was sluggish.  
  
Heero turned to him. "He's going to kill him, Chang."  
  
Wufei took another step forward, apologizing to his sword and his ancestors for using his weapon as a walking stick. Gael's finger tightened on the trigger.  
  
"Chang!"  
  
"... I can't..." He didn't know how to finish his sentence. He couldn't keep doing this. "This" was over. He stared at Heero, or at least the blur that he knew was Heero, and tried to convey the futility of the bargain he was seeking to strike. But he didn't know exactly how to tell Heero that he had reached the very end of what he could do. He could not serve Gael any more, even if it meant that Duo... even if Heero... "He's going to kill him anyway," he finally managed to whisper. "I'm sorry He-"  
  
He caught a blur of movement to his left and carefully turning his head, he saw a flash of bright color, turned red in the dim light of the backup bulbs. Gael caught it too and swung the gun around, dragging Duo with him. Their lover was still unconscious, though his features were pinched and pale. The gun fired twice, hurting Wufei's ears. He heard it before he saw it, and his sword left his fingers before he had time to think, before he'd really had enough time to center his scattered balance over his own feet. But his blade traveled straight and true. In nearly the same second, Heero scooped up his knife and surged forward. Even as Gael fell, pierced through by two of Quatre's knives and Wufei's sword, Heero brought his weapon down with terrible force, slicing the hand that still gripped Duo's braid clean through at the wrist. Their employer was dead before he hit the ground.  
  
Wufei stared and breathed. And didn't believe that what had just happened was the truth. He blinked and found himself on his knees. He sought the body in the middle of the hall and found that it was still there.  
  
A few paces away, Heero was dragging Duo away from Gael, tugging on his uninjured arm and breathing heavily. Wufei heard him collapse. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from the grisly sight - beginning to believe that his blurred vision was not in fact tricking him - to see Quatre swaying slightly on his feet, right arm hanging limply at his side, left poised over another dagger. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor, and it was smeared across both his cheeks like warpaint. Wufei raised an eyebrow but thought better of any snide comment about the boy's appearance. His face hurt too much. Without his sword for balance, even on his knees, a wave of dizziness swept through him, and he dropped willingly to the floor before it could come up and smack him in his already bruised chin. Heero rolled onto his side and let out a pained breath.  
  
"Fuck, that hurt."  
  
"Bit of overkill, slicing off his hand," Quatre murmured by way of greeting, wandering over to them.  
  
Wufei thought it an odd thing to say. But then, speech was beyond him at the moment.  
  
Heero shrugged and protectively draped an arm across Duo's middle. "I didn't know if he'd be able to..."  
  
"Bight like the wolf whose head was cut off?" A small smile played at the scarred corner of Quatre's mouth, lessening the severity of his features.  
  
Heero hesitated. "...Yeah."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
Wufei's ears perked up when he heard Duo groan and then curse skillfully in Spanish, French, and Chinese. He recognized the few expletives he'd taught his lover, back when they'd still been locking themselves in the bathroom and hiding in the empty stacks at the library in an effort to find time to be alone. That time was distant and shrouded in fog. Had it even happened? He looked now at his two lovers and he felt that the bond between them had surely been forged in one of the great furnaces that had given birth to the rest of the world.  
  
But, no, the fog probably only existed in his brain. The memories he had of Duo and his secretive relationship were real, if not as immediate as what he now faced with both young men. At these memories, he turned guiltily to Heero. Wufei had no idea how Gael knew that he and Duo had been together all those months, avoiding Heero, excluding him so they could be with each other. They'd been selfish and foolish and cruel, but they'd also been desperate. And then they'd been happy. And while Wufei regretted letting it go on so long before finally cluing Heero in - or rather, letting the whole thing slip to him - he didn't want to take back a single day that he'd spent with Duo. But he still felt some form of apology was in order. He crawled closer to the them just as Heero helped Duo into a sitting position, gently putting his abused arm back in the sling.  
  
Duo looked up at him as he approached and his pained expression instantly softened. "Hey, Wu." Then he spotted Quatre and his eyes widened as the boy dropped down onto the carpet with the rest of them, sitting cross-legged and holding his arm.  
  
"Q! Where'd you come from?" His eyes dropped to the blood oozing between pale fingers. "And what the hell happened to your arm?"  
  
Quatre gestured vaguely behind him. "I came from... that way. And I got shot at some point before that, though I can't exactly remember..."  
  
"Where's Trowa? Is he okay?"  
  
At the mention of that name, Quatre seemed to come out of his daze. He glanced over his shoulder, as though to make sure that Gael was well and truly dead, and then turned back. "I don't- actually know. He should be at the hospital now. I watched them take him away. He asked me to stay to finish all this, and..." He looked up at Duo, hesitating slightly. "And Gael said you'd been killed, shot in the back of the head. But, clearly you're not. Dead, that is."  
  
Duo shrugged one shoulder. "Wishful thinking on his part."  
  
"Trowa told me to tell you something before he left, and I can't remember all of it, but mainly he said he was sorry. He never told Gael about our plan for escape. He said that secret was safe, but he did tell Gael everything about you and Wu-" He stopped abruptly and looked at the floor.  
  
If Wufei's face hadn't already been red and swollen, he would have been blushing fiercely.  
  
"It's okay," Heero said, not looking at any of them. "You're not giving anything away."  
  
"Well, he said he was sorry about that," Quatre finished, looking rather uncomfortable.  
  
Wufei gave his jaw an experimental nudge with his thumb and forefinger and found that he could move it a bit without excruciating pain.  
  
"I'm sorry, too, Heero," he said, not much above a whisper.  
  
His partner eyed him a bit warily and his heart sank. He didn't know what that look meant; whether Gael rubbing his and Duo's clandestine relationship in Heero's face had ruined whatever chance the three of them had together, or whether he was just tired and hurt and not looking at anyone with a kind eye right then. Just because their bonds had been forged in some ancient furnace didn't mean that Heero couldn't hate his guts.  
  
"Tell me that again when I won't feel guilty for punching you in the chin." Heero said it gruffly but without anger, and Wufei relaxed slightly. A physical fight he could handle... later. Much later. But there was one question still bothering him, and he needed to ask it regardless of the repercussions for his jaw.  
  
"...Did you see Quatre coming when you offered our lives for Duo's? I mean, were you just buying him some time to get within range? Or... were you serious about what you said?"  
  
Duo glanced between them, eyes wide. "Heero, you did what?"  
  
Quatre looked on with great interest.  
  
"Which answer would you prefer?" Heero asked with at tired smile.  
  
"Which one do you think I'd prefer, Yuy?" Wufei gritted.  
  
They all turned at the sound of several people approaching. None of the four of them considered getting up to run. They wouldn't have gotten far. As the first officers entered the room, Heero glanced at Wufei, looking relieved that he didn't have to answer. "Oh, look. It's the police."


	34. Can't Hardly Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \------------  
> A/N: Quick Explanation. This chapter breezes past a lot, namely Wufei's talk with the police and Quatre's meeting with his family. I did this mainly because I wanted to convey how isolated the boys' lives have been throughout the course of the story. They've only had each other to rely on for information. Occasionally they venture out to the library to do a little research, but they don't have TV; they don't have their own car; they don't have cell phones and the only internet they have is on Heero's laptop and he doesn't share (or even use it beyond his hacking programs). This is exemplified also in the conversation between Heero and Wufei below. The boys, especially Heero and Duo, live pretty much free of the outside world, existing within their own universe, which mainly consists of one crisis after the next (Yay angst!). Anyway, if details are fuzzy, it's because the reader's world is as limited as theirs. They know what they perceive and feel and don't get much input beyond that. That's why their location (city, state, country, etc) was irrelevant. Their lives didn't need a specific context other than the specific events and people that shaped them. Hopefully that came across.
> 
> ps. Listen to happy music during this chapter. (There's sap/fluff here (I think)) Try "Can't Hardly Wait" by the Replacements for instance - it's, like, my favorite song EVER

**33a. Heero**  
  
I'll write you a letter tomorrow  
Tonight I can't hold a pen  
Someone's got a stamp that I can borrow  
I promise not to blow the address again  
_\- "Can't Hardly Wait" The Replacements_  
  
Heero floated in a pleasant fuzzy haze, not really able to feel anything below his shoulders. His body was heavy, sunk deep into the mattress. He lifted his hand and held it in front of his face, thinking that it didn't look or feel like his own. He reached the hand under his blankets and ran his fingers over the swell of gauze cushioning his abdomen. He pressed gently and felt nothing. He may as well have been touching someone else's body.  
  
The room was mostly silent, the sound of his breathing and the soft whir of the machines monitoring his vital signs making the only sounds. They were a gentle lullaby, those machines -- his breathing too, as though someone else were here, filling his head with white noise. Those sounds were trying to convince him that he could, that he wanted to close his eyes and sleep for a week. He had the vague feeling that he'd already been asleep for a while, that he'd already slept too long. There were things he needed to see to, people he needed to check on.  
  
He blinked sleepily and tried to focus on this itching sense of urgency. He tried to remember exactly how he got to this room and into this bed. Well, that part was a bit fuzzy, but his trip to the hospital and everything prior to it he could recall in chilling and bloody detail. He turned his head and looked out the window. The sun shown in on him him -- the mid-morning sun he realized. Stark, frightening images crowded his mind, chasing away the fog of wherever his mind had been the last several hours.  
  
Gael with a gun pressed underneath Duo's braid, Wufei dazed and swaying on his feet, himself trying to keep his balance as his abdominal muscles screamed at him. All of them bathed in the red glow of generator lights. Heero's desperate bargain, foolish words spoken in an effort to keep Gael from pulling the trigger, Wufei's wide, uncomprehending eyes.   
  
Quatre had materialized like a phantom, a will o' the wisp, only visible by his bright hair. He was just as dangerous as those ghostly lights that led careless travelers to their deaths in treacherous swamps and forests. Heero hadn't been able to see the daggers cutting the air and punching through Gael's chest. He had only seen Wufei hurling his sword at Gael's exposed back and then he'd acted without thinking, doing whatever he could to just get Duo away from the dying man with the gun. He'd felt muscles pulling further apart, felt his insides shifting.  
  
Then it was over and Wufei was apologizing to him again, for something they'd already worked out. The pain of knowing that Wufei and Duo had been together was insignificant compared to what they'd just done, what the four of them had accomplished. Really, he didn't see why Wufei was even concerned, though of course he couldn't let Chang know that. Keeping the dragon on edge was one of Heero's favorite hobbies as of late. Though he'd had to put that on hold when the police arrived and he found that the numbness in his gut was spreading to his legs. He'd been quite surprised when his friends had stood up to go with the officers and he could not.   
  
Everything got a little fuzzy after that. His clear recollection of events dissolved into vague images of figures hovering over him, gently prodding hands, needles sliding into his skin and a mask covering his nose and mouth. He remembered staring at the back of Wufei's head as the dragon walked ahead of Heero's stretcher. And he remembered Duo beside him, holding onto his hand as they traveled down to the ambulance. Duo had sat next to him on the ride to the hospital, keeping him more or less awake with dozens of questions that he in no way remembered. But he remembered that it'd been important for him to stay awake. He remembered Wufei leaning back with his eyes closed, a pack of ice on his jaw. Quatre was there too somewhere, silent, eyes downcast.   
  
Whatever they'd put in his IV had kept him quiet and mostly comfortable until they'd gotten to the hospital and he'd been wheeled away and the others hadn't come with him. He'd gone through so many doors, turned down so many halls, he couldn't keep track of them all, couldn't remember how to get back out, and what if they were actually working for Gael and were taking him somewhere to be executed? He didn't even know who "they" were anymore. What if after all this, all that the five of them had accomplished, Gael could still beat them, even when he was dead? And he couldn't warn the others, didn't even know if they were safe and fuck, he had to get off this gurney -- he was done for if he didn't. And he had to find-  
  
His eyes snapped open and he sucked in a sharp breath. His limbs were tingling faintly and his heart was rushing in his ears. He blinked a few times and every time he opened his eyes he found himself in the same white room, in the same bed, with same amount of sunshine coming in his window. He didn't know when his memories had turned into a nightmare. He wasn't sure he'd even been asleep. He looked over at the bedside clock and saw that only a few minutes had passed. His belly ached slightly, and he could tell that his body had tensed up during the dream. However, he hesitated to press the button for more pain killers. The drugs were probably the reason for his confusion.  
  
He lifted his hand in front of his eyes and again stared at it, trying to figure out just how with it he was at the moment. If only someone else were here. If he could just talk to someone, maybe he could...   
  
He turned his head toward the door and gave a soft huff of surprise. "Oh, look," he murmured dazedly. A cot had been wheeled into the room, and on it he found his two best friends, his partners. He smiled and spent the next several minutes going over the familiar lines of their bodies, making absolutely certain that they were alive and whole and breathing and safe. Duo lay curled on his side, injured arm in a more official looking sling that kept the arm immobilized against his chest. His hair had seen better days, but most of it was still in the braid. His ripped and bloody jogging clothes had been replaced by hospital pants and a clean white t-shirt. Heero thought he looked a little cold curled up like that. But he was also fast asleep and so he hesitated to disturb him by bringing a nurse into to ask for a blanket. Heero had two; maybe he could get one of them over to the cot...  
  
He nixed that idea when he realized he'd have to move and disrupt the Heero-shaped pocket of heavy, soft warmth currently keeping him very comfortable. Maybe Wufei could- He realized the dragon was awake and watching him though half-lidded eyes. He leaned against the wall, sitting on the cot with Duo's head pillowed in his lap, the fingers of one hand idly running through the sleeping man's bangs. They watched each other for awhile, Heero finding that he could think of nothing particularly pressing to say. The sunlit silence of the room was all he thought he'd ever need; that, and the two people on the cot next to him. In fact, he found he couldn't take his eyes away from them. He stared openly at Wufei's gold-tinged skin, especially where the skin turned an angry purple and blue. It was a spectacular bruise, as bruises went -- deep and dark like a thunder cloud. Not much skin had been torn; most of the damage was internal. Heero had seen the amount of blood the dragon had spit out. And he'd seen how Wufei had been unable to focus on him when they spoke after the fight was over. He couldn't see his pupils now, and even if he could, they wouldn't have been much of an indication of his well-being since the irises were essentially the same color.   
  
He couldn't tell how long the two of them looked at each other. It may have only been a few minutes or half an hour. The pain killers had his brain in a bit of a time warp and he didn't want to look away to check the clock. The time really didn't matter anyway.  
  
"Are they keeping you awake because of the concussion?" Heero finally asked. Both of them blinked at the sound of his voice. It was gruff and pitched lower than normal. He tried to clear his throat and wasn't very successful; his abdominal muscles didn't want to cooperate. Wufei was carefully watching this struggle and didn't answer until Heero swallowed and took a few steadying breaths.   
  
"I'm not allowed to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Kind of a pain," he murmured.  
  
"You could use the rest, too. I know I could sleep for days."  
  
Wufei shrugged. "Someone needed to look out for the two of you."  
  
Heero's nightmare instantly rushed back. He tensed, and Wufei immediately noticed the change, fingers freezing in Duo's hair, black eyes darting around the room, looking for the threat.  
  
"Chang, did something happen while I was out? Are we not safe here? What happened.?" He didn't want to try and get his body moving quite yet. He really didn't. But he would if they were in danger.  
  
Wufei relaxed again, shaking his head. "No, we're okay for the moment. The officer who helped us... what's her name..." His eyes narrowed as he concentrated, fighting to come up with the name.   
  
"Elsa Gustaffson," Heero supplied quickly, not liking the look of consternation on his partner's face.   
  
"Right," he said softly. "You'd be impressed just how many uniforms she's got sitting outside this room, making sure the same nurse and doctor come in. She didn't want to take any chances. Apparently the city's night time labor force has rioted with Gael's death. It's a mad grab for the power vacuum he created."  
  
Heero found himself nodding and not really caring in the least. The two most important pieces of his life were already in the room. And the others... Oh.  
  
"What about Quatre and Trowa?"  
  
Wufei rubbed his temples, brow drawing downward in a pained line. Heero frowned; the dragon really needed to rest.   
  
"It's the same for them as for us, though Trowa hasn't woken up yet. And when he does, he won't be going anywhere where for awhile."  
  
"What happened?" Heero asked softly.   
  
"Shot in the back and kicked around a bit. Duo told me it happened after Trowa stopped Gael from executing him. Said he owes Trowa his life." They looked down at their sleeping friend and lapsed into silence. Duo had born the brunt of Gael's cruelty and wrath, and not once, had he given up. He'd been a target but not a victim. Heero had never been so proud of him. And he couldn't wait to tell him that. He couldn't wait to tell him many things, and to keep telling him.   
  
"Quatre's okay, too," Wufei finally murmured. "Though the Winners were waiting for him when we got here. They grabbed him up and took him to some private room, crying and making a fuss and saying they were so glad to see him, so glad that he was safe."  
  
Heero tore his gaze away from Duo's slightly twitching eyelids, and looked up. "That doesn't make much sense. Do they think he doesn't know why he's been living with us for the past year?"  
  
Wufei shrugged. "Beats me, but honestly, I think I'd rather be in Trowa's position -- unconscious and drugged to my eyeballs."  
  
Heero snorted softly. "Agreed."  
  
"The Dragon Clan is a few thousand kilometers away, exactly where they should stay. Ties of kinship are over-rated."  
  
Their eyes met and Heero smirked. "Who needs family."  
  
One painfully obvious statement went unsaid and Heero felt it hanging between them until Wufei dropped his gaze and looked down at Duo again, his cheeks slightly flushed.   
  
"Is he okay?" Heero asked, eager to move past the awkward but appropriate moment when either one of them could have mentioned the sort of tie that bound the three of them together. But as they'd already discovered, neither was any good at communicating that sort of thing verbally anyway. Best to avoid it altogether.   
  
Wufei was nodding. "His arm's not broken or permanently damaged. They x-rayed it just be sure. Mainly muscles and tendon trauma. They gave him plenty of pain killers and something to help him sleep, which is why he's not waking up while we're talking."  
  
"He trusted you to look after him," Heero murmured.  
  
Wufei looked up and Heero could still see some residual haze in the dragon's dark stare. "I tried," he said. "Before... I tried to keep him safe, keep Gael away from him. But I failed. The least I can do is watch him sleep."  
  
Heero rubbed his abdomen through the blanket and bandages. "We all failed. But we all lived."  
  
Wufei gave him a slight nod. "What do you think will happen now? ...To us, I mean." He struggled to string words together, constructing his sentence before he said it. Heero watched his effort silently. "We need to find a lawyer, I think; we need to talk to someone who knows how to deal with... someone who can help us."  
  
The dragon looked awkward, forcing those words out. Heero thought that it wasn't just the concussion causing his partner's hesitation. He knew this assessment was correct because his own body was quietly rebelling against the idea of some third party swooping in to take care of them, using words they didn't recognize or understand, telling them their options, talking to them like they were children. Quate and Wufei might, but Heero and Duo didn't know the first thing about the legal process beyond avoiding it wherever possible. He didn't want someone he didn't know or trust coming through that door and he didn't want either of his partners leaving the room without him on his own two feet beside them. He wanted them to stay together -- the three of them definitely, the five of them hopefully -- never leaving each other, never growing apart, never allowing anyone else in. If they stayed together they could protect each other and they wouldn't even need help from anyone else, even if that person really did have their best interests at heart.   
  
His muscles tensed and ached, and he forced himself to loosen up. For most of his life, he'd only had Duo. Expanding that number by three had been extremely difficult, though necessary and, he thought, for the better. Adding anyone else at this point in the game, after everything that had happened, everything they'd done -- Heero didn't think he could stretch that far. He was probably being pig-headed and selfish, but there it was.   
  
He realized Wufei was still looking at him, expecting some sort of answer.   
  
"Do you think we messed up, getting the police involved?" he asked instead.  
  
Wufei blinked a few times and tilted his head further back to look up at the ceiling. "I didn't want to go to them at first, knowing how many worked for him. And then Duo ran into some of them, of course, but..." He lowered his gaze. "I think we encountered way less resistance because of their presence in Gael's mansion. Officer Guster- Gustaf- whatever it is, told me that they were able to detain a significant number of his employees, but that many got away, escaping when we cut the power. So they definitely made our hunt for Gael easier. We have them to thank, at least partially, for the empty hallways."  
  
Heero nodded. "I'm sure Duo will be glad to know that a fair number of Gael's employees got away. They were not to blame for our situation, and we weren't out to punish them."  
  
"He was glad," Wufei said.  
  
"I don't want any lawyers," Heero said suddenly, jerking their conversation back a few steps. "I want to get out of here as soon as possible." He could see Wufei sifting back over what they'd said before, bullying his brain into remembering, while at the same time watching Heero for some indication of why he'd made such an abrupt comment. Heero tried to convey 'why' through expression alone, a task he knew to be impossible. But it had been Wufei's hesitant and awkward broaching of the lawyer question that had made him think about their future in the first place, so he should have known that his partner would understand.   
  
Wufei took a deep breath. "I need to sleep first," he said with a weary shrug of stiff shoulders. "And you need to heal for longer than one morning. Then we need to make sure Winner can be or wants to be extracted from his family." He gave Heero a familiar smirk. "Then let's see what we can come up with."  
  
Heero felt his insides give a tentative flutter of anticipation. Had he not been so doped up on pain killers, the sensation flickering in his belly would have been a full-blown adrenalin rush. He closed his eyes for a moment and saw his partner's dangerous body twisting and bending in the dark, his sword glinting red, and recalled in vivid detail the times that body had been twisting and bending under him. He hungered for a future when his body was not limited by injury. He hungered for the freedom that he had to believe would come when they left everything and everyone in this city behind. He longed for unknown territory and unknown challenges that he and his partners could meet together.   
  
By the looks of it, so did Wufei.  
  
  
**33b.Quatre**  
  
Lights that flash in the evening,  
Through a crack in the drapes  
_\- The Replacements_  
  
He waved goodbye as his family pulled away in the limousine. He kept his smile firmly in place until they turned the corner and then he sagged down onto the bench outside the hospital's main entrance. He dropped his head into one hand and let out a slow breath. That had gone... pretty well, all things considered. No threats, no screaming, no violence, only a few tears... not bad. And he'd gotten to see his father, though he didn't get in more than a few words. But apparently the old man's wishes still held some sway because his sisters had brought him along to see his youngest child, and despite their efforts to keep him quiet, his father had told him that he loved him very much and that he needed to be written back into the will.  
  
Quatre was glad to hear the first part and shuddered at the second. Right then, sitting with his sisters and father in that cramped conference room, the Winner fortune meant very little compared to the urgent tugging in his belly that told him he needed to get back to Trowa, to be there when he woke up. He'd tried to explain this to his sisters; he'd even tried begging off the discussion they really needed to have with the excuse that his arm was hurting him. Which it was; both when he'd first seen them and now. It throbbed with a dull ache that was dragging down the rest of his body and reminding him that he hadn't slept in about 24 hours.   
  
He straightened when he heard the doors slide open behind him. There was a nurse waiting for him in the front entrance, along with two officers. He wearily looked them over before raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"You need to rest, Mr. Winner," the nurse said sharply. "You've lost a fair amount of blood and done substantial damage to your bicep."  
  
"I know," he retorted, sounding for all the world like he was addressing a subordinate. He winced and thought that it hadn't taken long for his sisters' mannerisms -- for his -- to come back to him. "What do they want?" he asked in a similar tone, jerking his chin toward the officers.   
  
The nurse glanced at the men on either side of her. "The city's in a bit of an uproar right now. They're going to look after you." He eyed them suspiciously. "You and Mr. Barton, who's woken up."  
  
Quatre's haggard face split into a wide grin and he fairly bounded back through the automatic doors, pausing only briefly to take the nurses hand and kiss her knuckles. She smiled at him and followed them all inside.  
  
+  
  
Trowa's dazed green eyes glanced from Quatre's mouth to his eyes, to his hair, down to his arm and back to his eyes. Quatre stood in the doorway, hesitant to act on the nearly overwhelming desire to leap onto the bed like he used to when he was a boy, and bury himself under the covers. He used to build forts with pillows and blankets and the backs of chairs, playing inside for hours until a servant had to drag him out to feed him. He had the ridiculous urge to do this now, on Trowa's bed, hiding him away from the world under that mustard colored blanket.   
  
He restrained himself with some difficulty. Then he saw the effort it took Trowa to lift the fingers of his right hand and his feet were carrying him forward even as the nurse warned him to be gentle. 'Of course,' he thought distantly. 'Who does she think this man is?' He wrapped both hands around the fingers that were still reaching for him and pressed his lips to Trowa's in a chaste kiss.  
  
"In my whole life, I have never been so happy to see anyone," he said, voice sharp and childlike to his own ears. He leaned back to see that Trowa was still examining him carefully, if not a little fuzzily.   
  
"What happened to your arm?" he asked, voice a bit hoarse.   
  
Quatre glanced down at his bandaged bicep and shrugged. "It doesn't matter in the least. It's fine." He turned back to Trowa and smiled. "And you're fine." Er, well. "Are you fine? You look wonderful. Do you need more pillows?"  
  
Trowa looked silently up at him, mouth turning up at the corners, and shook his head, no. Then he looked away, gaze drifting around the room, seeking Quatre wasn't sure what exactly. Finally, dazed green eyes rested on him again. "Tell me what happened. Did you find them?"  
  
Quatre smiled reassuringly, glancing over his shoulder to make certain they were alone. When he turned back, he found Trowa entirely focused on him, eager and mostly with it.  
  
"I did find them. You should have seen Duo fight; he was beautiful... and frightening. "  
  
"I knew Gael had lied about that," Trowa said to himself.   
  
It took Quatre a moment to follow, but then he nodded. "Duo was very much alive. They all were."  
  
"I wish I could have seen it. Is Gael-"  
  
Quatre squeezed his hand in a gentle warning and leaned in close. "It's finished. Wufei and I finished it."  
  
Trowa regard him silently for a moment as that knowledge sank in. "How finished is it, really?" he finally asked.  
  
Quatre's emotionally draining meeting with his family came rushing back, and he groaned, leaning his head on Trowa's shoulder. "Not nearly," he murmured with a small sad smile. He straightened and took a deep breath. "The Winners have returned and apparently, they're not opposed to me reclaiming a place in the family. I can have my old room back for the summer and attend university in the fall. I'll inherit a portion of the money too."  
  
Trowa's eyes had gone wide when Quatre had mentioned his family. And because Trowa's reaction time was rather reduced at the moment, Quatre could see the progression of those reactions. Surprise, suspicion, anger, acceptance, resignation, and sadness -- then a forced return to anger on his behalf. Quatre saw it all and felt it squeeze his heart.   
  
"Part of the Winner fortune?" Trowa repeated. "Do they realize the trouble they're in now that you're back and you know what they did? They tried to rob you of your future! They nearly succeeded."  
  
Quatre could see the effort it was costing Trowa to convince him that the Winner's doings mattered in the least bit to the Frenchman. Quatre could see Trowa smothering a gut reaction to the very real possibility that he was about to be left behind. He wanted to reassure his lover, but the words weren't there yet. He had to get the rest of his story out before he could talk about any sort of future.  
  
"I- don't think my sisters know whether I am aware of their involvement in my kidnapping and captivity." He spoke haltingly, not entirely sure he believed it himself. "They were waiting here at the hospital. They cried and hugged me as though they had no idea that they were the ones who'd struck up that deal with Gael last summer."  
  
It didn't look like this was computing for Trowa. "Are you serious? They didn't think you'd know the situation?"  
  
Quatre shrugged. "I guess Gael wasn't supposed to tell." Then he laughed. "And he didn't. He told Heero, and Heero told you and you both told me. But regardless, if I wasn't supposed to know..."  
  
"And it makes perfect sense that your siblings wouldn't want you to..."  
  
"...you'd think he'd have kept that tidbit of information away from my flat mates."  
  
Trowa smiled. "You'd think. But then, Gael was never good with secrets, especially juicy ones like that. He was always a gossip and he never liked the Winners."  
  
"Heero told me once that he could be a cold, scary drug lord one minute and an excited teenager the next."  
  
"He was right." Trowa watched him carefully, waiting. Quatre hesitated. Finally Trowa asked the question hanging in the air between them. "So, did you tell them that you knew what they'd done?"  
  
Quatre looked down at his hands. "No," he whispered. "I couldn't."  
  
Trowa let out a breath and grabbed Quatre's chin, jerking his eyes up. "Why not, Quatre? They took what was yours."  
  
Quatre felt his weariness breaking him down. His voice cracked. "And if I told them I knew, if I took them to court and dragged them through the mud and took back everything they took from me, they would still win, because I'd lose you! You can't stay here Trowa. It's too dangerous. And I would _have_ to stay. I would be fighting for a life here, in _this_ city, a life that is supposedly owed to me. But it's not even my money; I did nothing to earn it. Working as a hustler and then as a bounty hunter... that was the first money I'd ever earned for myself. My older sisters have been working for Dad since before I was born. They have more right to it than I do."  
  
Trowa was looking at him very strangely, raw emotion ravaging his already tired features. "But Quatre, what they did to you-"  
  
"They handed me over to you! What they _did_ brought me to you. I am the most grateful brother and son the Winners have ever had!"  
  
He tried one more time. "But you're sick. You need treatment, no matter what you say. Even though what you have is asymptomatic, you need treatment."  
  
"And they're paying for it. Wherever we go, Trowa, when we get there, they'll pay for the treatment."  
  
"I'm not changing your mind on any of this, am I."  
  
Quatre shook his head, smiling tentatively.   
  
"Well, thank god," Trowa murmured before reaching a shaky hand up to grab the back of Quatre's neck and drag him down into a hard kiss.  
  
Quatre laughed and wriggled away from him, but only so that he could slide under the covers, pulling the mustard yellow blanket over both their heads. It cast Trowa in a strange light, turning his skin dark and his hair darker. "I'd like to go somewhere with lots of water," Quatre said, wrapping one arm very carefully around his lover's bandaged middle.  
  
"I'd like to go some place where I can touch you any time I want."  
  
"I like that even better."  
  
  
**33c. Heero**  
  
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff   
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes  
  
Lights that flash in the evening,   
Through a hole in the drapes  
I'll be home when I'm sleeping  
I can't hardly wait!  
  
I can't wait. Hardly wait.  
_\- The Replacements_  
  
He was sweating as Wufei helped him into the spare set of clothes. His fingers trembled just a little as his partner tugged the sleeves of the shirt over his hands, and his legs shook just a little bit more as he gently pulled the loose-fitting sweats up over his hips. Wufei checked the bandage one more time, making sure that the drawstring waistband rested below the knife wound. His hand was warm and dry on Heero's abdomen.  
  
"How do you feel?" he asked softly.   
  
"Good."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay. Lean on me." He grunted low in his throat as his weight came to rest across Wufei's shoulders, the dragon anchoring his arm with a hand around his wrist. They made their way to the door slowly and carefully, Heero's sneakered feet treading silently across the tile floor. Wufei grabbed the doorknob, turning at the last second to examine his partner. "Are you afraid?"  
  
Heero breathed in, smelling Wufei's clean hair as well as the tang of tension radiating from him. He brought his nose closer to that scent, almost touching the shadows just below the dragon's ear. "Are you?"  
  
He heard Wufei swallow. "No."  
  
His lips and his words ghosted over Wufei's neck and his lover shivered just slightly. "Neither am I." He laid his hand over the one gripping the knob and turned it for him. "Duo's waiting for us." And he was.   
  
As they emerged from Heero's hospital room, he materialized out of the shadows, falling into step with them as they made slow progress down the hallway. "We're all set," he murmured, slipping Heero's other arm over his shoulders, allowing them to pick up the pace a bit. Heero noticed that Duo's left hand was shoved in his pants pocket, braced well enough. The sling would have made for easy identification, and for what they were about to pull off, that would have been very bad. The braid was also hidden. In the few days since they'd arrived at the hospital, Wufei's bruise had darkened and then begun to fade. It was now a very attractive greenish yellow color. He kept his chin tucked against his shoulder and his favorite cap over his black hair. If any of their nurses showed up right then, they'd surely be recognized and caught, but Trowa and Quatre were hopefully seeing to that risk with the ruckus they were raising on the floor above them.   
  
"The police should be done with their sweep of the hospital parking lots and courtyard by now," Duo whispered as they entered the stairwell. "And Quatre will be demanding that they do a walk-through of the entire facility to make sure that none of the 'suspicious characters' that Trowa 'saw' are threatening any of the patients."  
  
"Won't they head straight to my room?" Heero asked.   
  
This had been his major concern from the beginning, when Duo and Wufei had wheeled him into Trowa's room so they could discuss their escape plan. Quatre had looked down his nose at Heero and said, "The police will go where I tell them to. Have you forgotten who I am?" His mouth was twisted upward in a haughty smirk and Heero had nearly flinched backward.  
  
"Apparently, " he'd murmured before Duo had rested his hand on the back of his neck and reassured him. "The nurses Quatre's gonna call to Trowa's room will have just done rounds and can tell them that you were fine and there was no one around. It should buy us enough time to get out."  
  
"Yes, do try to make it work." Quatre's voice had been cool, but not icy. "We're getting tired of covering for you while you make daring escapes into the night."   
  
"Yeah, well, so we owe you guys two daring escapes now. Big deal." Duo had been smiling and so had Quatre. So had they all.   
  
Heero was not smiling now as he shuffled down the stairs. He took them one at a time and still his stitches pulled. He grimaced and again felt Wufei's palm on his belly. "We should have taken the elevator," the dragon hissed. "He's not well enough for this."  
  
"He's fine," Heero muttered in irritation, never liking it when his two lovers spoke like the invalid couldn't hear them.  
  
"Just a few more, Ro," Duo whispered. Overhead they heard Quatre's voice, pitched to sound like a spoiled child. Heero guessed it wasn't too difficult an act to pull off. He glanced upward and Duo caught his eye.  
  
"We'll see them again," Duo assured him. "Once Trowa's up and around and Quatre's got things sorted out with his family, they'll find us."  
  
"Maybe we should stay," Heero murmured, distracted by the shouting above them. "There's a lot of legal stuff to deal with over what happened at the mansion. Quatre shouldn't have to face it alone."  
  
"Trowa will be there with him... and he didn't kill anybody," Duo reminded him. "The three of us put together..." He trailed off.  
  
"If we stayed to deal with it, we'd never be able to leave," Wufei said softly.   
  
"Not after what we did," Duo finished.  
  
"What we had to do," Wufei shot back.  
  
"...Right."   
  
Heero glanced between them and then sagged a bit in relief when they came to the ground floor. Wufei shoved the door open and Duo propped it open with his foot as Heero carefully stepped outside. He looked up at the night sky, unable to to make out many stars in the glare of the parking lot lights.   
  
"The car's over there," Duo said. "I got all our shit from the locker before I brought it here. We can go straight to the station."  
  
"Good," Wufei nodded, gently tugging Heero forward. "Come on."  
  
It appeared that his partners had everything worked out. As they approached the small Volkswagen, Duo ducked out from underneath his arm and unlocked the door to the back seat. Heero leaned heavily against Wufei's side as their friend disappeared inside for a moment, reappearing with a blanket in his arms.   
  
"Get in from this side, okay? I put some pillows against the other door so you'll have something to lean on."  
  
He grunted a reply and sank gratefully onto the worn, slightly lumpy seat. "Do I want to know where you got this car?" he asked tiredly.  
  
"No, you do not," Wufei said briskly, preempting any remark Duo was about to make. Their partner flicked them both off before handing the blanket off to Wufei and vaulting over the hood of the car to slide into the driver's seat.  
  
As Heero laid down in the back seat and took the blanket from Wufei, he cast a worried glance toward Duo when he turned the ignition and the car coughed to life. "Duo... do you even know how to drive stick?"  
_  
"Do_ I!" he said enthusiastically.   
  
"I'd really like to live through this if at all possible," Wufei deadpanned as he slid into the front seat, and very carefully buckled his seatbelt.   
  
"Oh, psh. You both worry too much," Duo said with a grin, throwing one arm behind Wufei's head rest to look over his shoulder as he reversed out of the parking space. Apparently his arm was feeling better. Heero braced himself against his seat and the back of Duo's and let a smile slide across his face as Duo put the car into gear and drove very responsibly out of the empty lot.


	35. Epilogue, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \-----------  
> Note: Takes place about two years after the final chapter.

**Epilogue 1. Duo**  
  
You're my favorite thing  
You're my favorite thing  
You're my you're my favorite thing  
Bar nothing  
I think big once in a while  
_\- "Favorite Thing" The Replacements_  
  
Duo bullied his way through the door, juggling keys, sacks of groceries and his school bag, which insisted on sliding off his shoulder. Finally through and into the hallway, he kicked the door shut behind him and shuffled toward the kitchen, all the while cursing Ottawa's infrequent but brutal heat waves, humidity, the month of June, finals, living on the third floor, frantic preparations before a trip, having to buy groceries on the way home from school, forgetting his phone, forgetting that Heero had the car, his braid which was stuck to the back of his neck, clothes in general because they stuck to his skin, and finally, the size of their kitchen. It had next to no counter space. He left the food in a pile on the floor and on the small bit of counter by the toaster oven and immediately peeled off his sweaty tank top. He took a quick sniff under his arms and made a face. He should probably shower before they left. Then he shrugged and kicked off his flip-flops. Their car didn't have AC anyway. He'd be sweaty almost instantly and it wasn't like he had anyone to impress where they were going.  
  
He strolled toward the bedroom, pulling his braid up into a knot as he went. He stopped in the doorway when he caught a glimpse of the view inside. Leaning against the door frame, he smiled. Wufei must have been tired to have slept through his loud entrance to the apartment. The dragon lay sprawled on the bed, his head pillowed on one arm, their fan going full blast aimed at his bare back. Duo openly admired the smooth expanse of dark skin. His lover's job as a bicycle courier, coupled with the warmer sun, had turned his shoulders to burnished gold over the last month. His eyes followed the indentation of his spine and the lines of the new tattoo that curved along his shoulder blade. It bore a close resemblance to the one that Heero and he both had, but unlike theirs, it didn't run along his back bone, instead curling along the inside and bottom of his shoulder blade. Wufei referred to it as proof of his status as the third wheel, both because it was vaguely circular and because it was different from his lovers'.  
  
Duo thought that the dragon was a bit self-conscious of such an obvious sign of his connection to the two of them, and honestly, he thought that was kind of cute. He knew that Wufei lost any feeling of discomfort when either Heero or himself had him pinned face-down on the bed, rough fingers or a tongue tracing the lines of ink. His back muscles would flex and bunch as he made a token effort to escape, without really having any intention of-  
  
Duo shivered and came the rest of the way into the room, carefully approaching the bed. Even though they'd been in Ottawa for a little over two years - safe, healthy, comfortable - they were all still light sleepers.  
  
He let his braid fall back against his spine and then knelt by the bed, hands flat on the blankets. His lover's face was turned toward him, gold-tinged skin flushed and shiny with the heat. The fan filled the room with white noise and Duo felt his eyelids drooping. Maybe he could nap with Wufei for just a few minutes, before Heero got home from work and rounded them and their luggage into their beat up Subaru. He probably had half an hour yet. First though... He reached careful fingers toward Wufei's back, touching his skin with only the very tips. He ran them along the knobs of his spine, then traced the lines of the tattoo along his shoulder blade. He brushed stray hairs away from the dragon's neck, the strands damp with sweat.  
  
Wufei's hair was getting shaggy and long, though not quite long enough to pull back. It looked good, Duo thought, though he had a strong suspicion that the dragon would ask Trowa to chop it all off once they arrived. That's what he'd done last year. Duo liked it longer, but having it short meant he could rub his palm over his lover's scalp and he liked to do that. His fingers traced lazy patterns along ridges of bone and firm muscle. In the valleys where muscles dipped lower, their skin stuck together. He took his hand away and tasted salt on his fingers.  
  
Just then, Wufei stirred, back muscles stretching under smooth skin. Duo returned his palm to Wufei's back, pressing firmly, letting him know who was there with him.  
  
"I know what your doing, Maxwell..." His voice was heavy with sleep and his eyes didn't open, but Duo was smiling anyway. "...And I like it," he grumbled. Duo resumed tracing ribs, vertebrae, and shoulder blades, the dragon arching under his touch. Finally dark eyes opened, blinking tiredly at Duo. "You're sticking to me," he muttered. He started to sit up, peeling his arm away from where it stuck to his cheek. "I'm sticking to me."  
  
Duo's grin got a bit wider as he touched the bright red mark on Wufei's cheek. "You must have been exhausted, Wu."  
  
He nodded, yawning on cue. "Still am. That last paper was a bear."  
  
Duo rose to his feet and climbed onto the bed beside him. "Did you turn it in yet?"  
  
Wufei gave him a look and sniffed. "Do you think I'd be able to sleep without first turning in my assignments?"  
  
Duo rubbed the ridge of scar tissue on Wufei's arm, and even in the heat, he shivered. "Yeah, dumb question, I guess."  
  
He slid his arm around Wufei's middle and flung him down onto the mattress, laughing at his indignant squawk of protest. "Lay down with me for a few minutes, lover. I need to rest up before I can face Heero's trip-planning, car-packing skills."  
  
Wufei rolled over within the circle of his arms. "But you're sticking to me," he complained.  
  
"Deal with it. Be happy it's not snowing like last month."  
  
Wufei's mouth stretched into a lazy grin and he subsided. He had no sharp retort to Duo's statement, which led him to believe that the dragon was even more tired than he let on. Duo ran his fingers through fine black hair.  
  
"You shouldn't worry so much about those papers, Wu. You're older than most of the kids in your classes and the professors already love your work. Cut yourself a break."  
  
Wufei closed his eyes and shoved his right leg between Duo's so that they lay closer together, limbs tangled, bare bellies just touching. "I refuse to heed any advice from you Maxwell, seeing's how it generally encourages me to be a lazy slug."  
  
"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," Duo said with a satisfied smirk.  
  
"Not really, since I noticed that you turned in all of your final projects right on time - and some of them were quite good."  
  
Duo's brow twitched just slightly. "You liked some of it, didya?"  
  
Wufei nodded and stared off into middle distance. "Your portraits are just as disturbing to me now as they were then."  
  
Duo could make a pretty good guess at what 'then' Wufei was referring to. "I've had a lot of inspiration these last couple years," Duo murmured.  
  
How long had it been exactly? He rested his head on Wufei's pillow and watched him phase out, doing a little recollecting of his own.  
  
Quatre had moved into their old flat three years ago at the end of this summer. That's when it had all started, when Trowa had become a real person, with real interests (mainly Quatre). And Heero decided he either needed to move up in the family or get out. It was shortly after that when Wufei and Duo had encountered Ralph (fucker) and then... each other on a more intimate level. That was when Duo had first shown Wufei his portraits. That had been early fall, and things didn't really get going between them until maybe a month after that.  
  
Heero and Trowa's (ballsy/hair-brained) escape plan took up most of the fall and winter and then everything had gone to shit all at once when Heero and Wufei took part in a job that ended up a massacre (they had all the fun). And that was, what, February? Everything had fallen out from under them in one night and within the week, they were homeless and jobless. By the e _nd_ of the week, Gael was dead, they were all free, and all in the hospital... and under police surveillance. Their blades had all been taken as evidence and the four of them together (Trowa wasn't involved, having been shot before all the carnage) were suspected of involvement in the deaths of twelve people, including Gael and Cecile. When they'd sat together in Trowa's hospital room, they'd figured out the numbers. Heero had three; Wufei had four counting Gael; Duo had two; and Quatre had four, also counting Gael, since he and Wufei agreed that the blame for that one fell on them both. It was likely that they'd come out of it okay. Only Gael's death had been pre-meditated, and so far, only the five of them knew that. Self-defense was a reasonable plea for all of them, especially Duo. And with the Winner lawyers working for them... But neither Duo nor Heero wanted anyone else knowing anything about what they'd done - what they'd had to do in order to have any chance at lives of their own choosing. Wufei had agreed, and within three days, Duo had (found/stolen/whatever) a car and had a destination in mind. Quatre had assured them that he and Trowa would be fine remaining in the city. Really, they didn't have much choice, because Trowa was even less mobile than Heero at the time.  
  
By the end of March - after holing up in different towns for a week here and there, allowing Heero to heal - they were on a plane out of Brussels, headed for the Americas, specifically Toronto. They found a place to stay and a restaurant that needed the help, but Wufei was accepted to the University of Ottawa shortly thereafter, so they picked up and went there. Heero flexed his computer network security muscles and found an employer willing to pay for night classes in math and science within two weeks of their arrival in the capitol. Duo found work at an arts and crafts store (to Wufei's e _ndless_ amusement), and on slow shifts, he worked towards his GED. By the time that had all been figured out, they were well into the summer.  
  
Quatre and Trowa showed up in Toronto at the end of the summer and stayed put while Quatre continued the treatment he'd started back home before they left. Trowa's physical therapy was reported successful; he had a clean bill of health and full range of movement in his back and legs by the time they arrived. Communication during that time had been sporadic and brief. Most of it came from Trowa who said that Quatre was taking the drugs well, though he was sleeping a lot and wasn't much fun to be around. The Winners were paying for the treatment, but the two of them were on their own in terms of living arrangements. Trowa had said that he was picking up odd jobs to pay the rent while Quatre was unable to work. No one asked him what those were, and he didn't offer. Duo could make an educated guess, because when his lovers weren't looking and when money was tight, he'd fallen back on older talents as well. Ottawa was a different sort of city, but some things remained the same - dark, secret, and quick. Duo still spoke that language fluently, if not naturally.  
  
Quatre's treatment had lasted nearly six months, and when it was over, he and Trowa had moved about two hundred kilometers closer to Ottawa, working full-time for a family who owned a bunch of cottages as well as a farm. In the letters they wrote, both expressed how different it was to work for a family that was literally an elderly man, his son and the son's wife.  
  
All five former hustlers had lived there that summer, and they would again this year.  
  
Duo counted all the chunks of time on his fingers until he got to the present. "Fuckin-a, man. Three years."  
  
Wufei blinked and inhaled sharply. "What? What'sit?" He rubbed his eyes and turned to Duo. He'd obviously fallen asleep again.  
  
"It's been almost three years since we first met Quatre. That means you and I have been together for two and a half, and the three of us for two." Duo looked at him very seriously. "That's insane."  
  
Wufei nodded, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms up to the headboard. "It doesn't feel that long, most of the time," he said thoughtfully. "Other times I feel like I've known you my whole life."  
  
"Times like when?" Duo asked, curious.  
  
"Usually the ones when you're a pain in the ass and I feel like I've been dealing with your shit for years. Like when you eat peanut butter directly out of the jar, or when you leave hair in the drain, or when you turn a relaxing jog at the end of the day into a competition." Duo rolled his eyes. "But when I see your artwork or watch you sleep, it's like back when we were first with each other. It's like you're new and dangerous."  
  
He grinned because he couldn't help it. He cast his eyes over the smooth muscle of Wufei's chest, the lines of his hips where they disappeared into dark gray shorts, and the soft dark hair that curled under his arms where they reached over his head. He breathed in and smelled sweat as well as his soap and deodorant. And in that moment, Wufei was so obviously the man he'd been living with, the man he was in love with - he was so obviously real - that Duo had to laugh and look away.  
  
"See something you like?" Wufei murmured, eyebrow raised.  
  
Duo looked up. "Haven't heard you say that in a long time."  
  
"Haven't needed to say it in long time."  
  
It was such a blatant reminder of their past occupation that they both fell silent for a moment, smiles fading, eyes growing distant. But Duo didn't want to delve back into that time again, so he grabbed the mood by the balls and slid on top of his lover, one leg pressed between his thighs, elbows on either side of his chest, under his raised arms.  
  
Wufei looked up at him, lowering one arm to gently rest his hand along his ribs. He spread his legs a little wider. Duo asked the question with a tilt of his eyebrow and Wufei answered with a twitch of lips. Verbal communication between them had not been necessary for at least a year when it came to their bodies. Their kisses were lazy and slow, hands roaming languidly over skin and through hair. Duo pressed his thigh upward in a steady, unhurried rhythm and grinned into his lover's mouth when he felt an answering push into him. He anchored his fingers in Wufei's hair, drawing his lover's head back, letting the kiss deepen. He kissed his way down the dark column of his neck and gently bit the ridge of his collar bone.  
  
Their bellies stuck together when Duo pulled back to take a breath, and Wufei grimaced. "You're sweating on me," he said fuzzily.  
  
"It's only gonna get worse, Wu," he murmured with a wicked smile.  
  
+  
  
Duo rolled onto his back when he heard the front door shut and familiar footfalls head into the living room. He drew the sheet further up on his hips and covered Wufei as well. The dragon was fast asleep again, one arm above his head, the other curled across his abdomen. Duo shoved his bangs out of his eyes, yawned and propped himself up into a semi-sitting position. He glanced sleepily around the room at the complete lack of packing he'd done. By the time Heero stepped through the doorway, he'd decided not to worry about it and had fallen back down onto the bed, curling up against Wufei's side. He feigned sleep but knew that Heero wouldn't buy it for a second.  
  
He cracked an eye when he didn't hear any of Heero's customary greetings and found his lover silently removing his work shirt and tie, returning the tie to the closet and the shirt to the hamper. His undershirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat. He took that off too and then turned when he felt Duo's eye on him. Duo smirked at his appraisal, watching Heero take in his and Wufei's state of undress.  
  
"You missed the party, Ro," Duo said quietly.  
  
Heero raised an eyebrow. "You mean the packing up and leaving the apartment for the summer party? Clearly I haven't." He cast his gaze around the room, noticing all the clothes, books, and toiletries that were conspicuously not in suitcases and bags. Duo shrugged with a sheepish grin.  
  
"It's not like we were gonna be able to make it for dinner anyway. And... I got groceries! Did you see all the food I got for the trip?"  
  
"I did see. It was all over the counter and the floor."  
  
Duo huffed a laugh and reared up onto his knees, reaching across the small room to grab Heero by the belt and drag him down onto the bed. "Lose the work, persona, man. We're on vacation! These awful pleated pants must be what's causing your foul mood. Why don't you wear the ones without the pleats? Pleats give you hips, Heero - fake hips. I like you because you _don't_ have hips."  
  
Heero tried to fend off Duo's skilled fingers for all of five seconds before he let himself be stripped of the offending pleated garment. Wufei awoke briefly, saw that Heero was now in bed with him and scooted over to make room, then rolled onto his side and fell back to sleep. Heero, now naked as they day he was born, slid under the sheet with Duo. "You must have really worn him out," he murmured, eying Wufei's bare shoulder.  
  
Duo chuckled. "Nah. I found him like that. He hasn't slept much over the last few days. If he did, it was on the couch in the office." It was a courtesy they all gave each other that, when one of them had a project or assignment due, they slept in the office so as not to wake up the other two with a late bedtime. For the past three nights, Duo had missed Wufei in their room.  
  
He watched Heero stare up at the ceiling and frowned. "Is something wrong?" Heero turned to look him in the eye and smiled. Even though Duo'd known him for over fifteen years, he still felt his heart slip down between his lungs to land on his stomach every time he saw that smile. There'd been quite a stretch of time - years - when he thought he'd never see it again. The past year-and-a-half, almost two years, had been good for him.  
  
Heero shook his head slightly and lifted a hand to run it along Duo's bare chest and abdomen. He traced the lines of old scars. Duo, in turn traced a few of Heero's. He had many more. The scar from Cecile's knife, from that last night, was still a hard ridge of numb tissue, even though Duo had bought him vitamin E to put on it. The railroad tracks were still there from the many stitches he'd needed to hold his insides in.  
  
"I'm fine," he murmured eventually. "I'm just ready to leave town for awhile. I'd like to see the others."  
  
Duo nodded. It'd been since Christmas that they'd seen Trowa and Quatre. They were all looking forward to it. He yawned one more time and then rolled on top of his lover, kissing him soundly on the mouth. Then he rolled off his other side and right onto Wufei. "Wake up, biker boy, we're hittin' the road!" Wufei groaned and tried to shove Duo off. He succeeded but Duo didn't let go, so they both ended up on the floor.  
  
Two hours later, they were in the car - Duo in the driver's seat, Heero next to him with the map (even though Duo knew the way, he insisted), Wufei in the back already inquiring about when they could stop for food and a bathroom. As Heero and Duo had learned over the course of their flight from Europe and their subsequent travels back and forth across Ontario, Wufei was a poor traveler. He had a large stomach and a very small bladder. Occasionally, Duo reminded himself that, in the grand scheme of their lives thus far, a small bladder really wasn't that big of a deal.

+


	36. Epilogue, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \--------  
> Note: Takes place about two years after the final chapter.

**Epilogue 2. Trowa**

They know my name 'cause I told it to them  
But they don't know where and they don't know when  
It's coming, oh when?  
Is it coming?  
Keep the car running  
Keep the car running  
Keep the car running  
_\- "Keep the Car Running" Arcade Fire_  
  
Trowa carefully tucked in the top sheet, tugging it tight and flattening the creases as he went. He tossed three pillows to the head of the bead, then folded up the blankets and laid them at the foot. They probably wouldn't be needed in this heat, especially with three bodies sharing the same mattress. The spare room was small and stuffy and Trowa was already sweating. He glanced at the single bed in the corner and decided he should make that one up too. Their three friends had ended up needing it last summer after one of their infamous, floor-board rumbling fights. He didn't know which of them had been excommunicated to the spare bed - maybe they'd switched off for that week. Better to just have the bed ready this year to avoid having one of them stomp into his and Quatre's room in the middle of the night, in his underwear, asking for the spare set of sheets, like last year. He retrieved the sheets from the linen closet, turned the fan up to high and set to work. Heero, Duo and Wufei wouldn't be arriving until after dinner, so hopefully the room would be cooled off by then. As it was, everyone was having a hard time sleeping.  
  
Honestly, Trowa had a hard time envisioning how their three friends could sleep together at all, let alone on steamy nights when the temperature didn't drop below 25 centigrade. They were all such strong personalities and there was never one of them that served as the anchor, the one that tied the other two down together. The way Trowa saw it, the three of them were bound together with equally strong and equally complex flexible knots. It made them essentially unbreakable, but also left them constantly tangled and wound up in each others' lives. He decided it was messy and troublesome but, at the same time, utterly necessary and probably fantastic enough for all three to feel that it was worth the stepped-on toes and invaded personal space.  
  
Last summer, he and Quatre were fortunate enough to see their relationship in all it's permutations: Heero sleeping with his head in Duo's lap, both arms wrapped around Duo's middle; Duo and Wufei swimming down at the lake, stealing underwater kisses between attempts to dunk each other; Heero and Wufei lovingly trying to kick the shit out of each other in the field that Trowa had spent all morning baling. Then there were the times that he and Quatre came upon all three of them otherwise engaged in one of the cabins they were supposed to be cleaning out for the next round of guests. And Quatre, on more than one occasion, when in the downstairs den, had looked up at the ceiling and inquired about the structural integrity of both the floor in the spare room and the bed itself. This was an old farmhouse after all. Times like those, Trowa was glad that the old farmer was deaf and his son and daughter-in-law had good senses of humor.  
  
Times like those, Trowa was also glad to be in love with one person and one person only. Every day that he woke up next to Quatre, he was grateful to only have one person to pour his heart into. He still woke up in the middle of the night, terrified that Quatre was gone for any number of reasons: he'd stayed in Europe with his family, they'd not caught his illness in time and liver cancer had taken him in weeks, that girl he'd gone after at the end, Olean, had stuck him with her sword, Gael's ghost had come in the night and absconded with him. No matter how absurd the reason, he woke up sweating, his limbs humming with adrenalin. He would roll over and just stare at Quatre until he felt normal again. If there were two people whom he loved as intensely, he didn't think his 25-year-old heart could take it.  
  
He finished making the other bed and sat down with a heavy sigh. One hand automatically reached around to massage his lower back, working out the stiffness that sometimes gathered there when he bent over for any length of time. Despite the best efforts of the physical therapist back home, he still suffered the occasional twinge that brought him up short and drained his face of all color. They served to remind him of everything he and his friends had been through. If he looked at it that way and then took whatever opportunity he had to grab hold of Quatre and kiss him until he laughed, then the twinges didn't bother him much at all.  
  
+  
  
He found Quatre in the side yard stacking wood from a tree that had come down in a storm the week before. He watched his lover's back and shoulders bend and twist as he lifted the logs and then placed them carefully in interlocking rows. In the past year he'd regained most of the sleek, long muscle he'd lost while undergoing treatment for his illness. Trowa thought he now looked healthy and strong. He worked slowly and deliberately, pausing only to wipe his forehead and upper lip with a lightly tanned forearm.  
  
Quatre kept the hair out of his eyes with a large red baseball cap that all of his friends agreed looked ridiculous on the former Winner heir. He'd bought it at the dollar store when they first arrived to work for the Bresees, claiming that it made him look less like a city kid. He still refused to wear anything else when he worked outside. Last summer Duo had stolen it and written "Winner's Trucking: We're Relentless and Stub" across the front in permanent magic marker. Quatre had snatched it back before he could finish "Stubborn." He proved Duo right every time he wore the stupid thing, especially when they went into town for cabin supplies and he watched people reading the front of his hat and stumbling on "Stub."  
  
When Trowa worked, he pulled his long bangs up into a spiky ponytail on top of his head. He did it partly in response to Quatre's red hat, but mostly because it also kept his hair out of his face. He wasn't ready to cut it yet. He strode over to where Quatre worked, pulling his hair up as he went, tapping his shoe against Quatre's in silent greeting. He bent to help with the work, but before he could, Quatre bumped him with his hip, jostling him away from the wood pile. They both straightened and Quatre took off his hat to rub his arm over sweat-darkened hair. He looked up at Trowa and grinned.  
  
"It's the desert shrub," he said, reaching up to ruffle Trowa's spiky hair.  
  
He jerked his head away and swatted at Quatre's hand. "It's Relentless and Stub," he countered with a smirk.  
  
Quatre laughed and settled the cap over his hair again. His hands were large and clumsy in yard-work gloves and he tossed them on the ground before resting his hands along Trowa's spine, fingers gently massaging lower back muscles, skittering over the puckered scar under his t-shirt. "How's your back?" he asked. "You're standing like it hurts today."  
  
"It's fine," Trowa said, voice smooth. "I need to strengthen the muscles for the summer and fall. I got lazy this year." Quatre looked worried, and Trowa didn't want him to be, so he glanced around to make sure that the old farmer wasn't sitting out in the front garden and leaned down and to the side to kiss Quatre underneath the brim of his hat. His lips were a little salty but his mouth tasted like the sour cherries that had just come in.  
  
"How are you feeling today?" Trowa finally asked when they drew apart.  
  
Quatre took a deep breath, eyes closed, measuring how it felt to breathe, looking inward to his other functions. He opened his eyes and, even after all his months of good health, he still looked surprised and relieved. "I feel good - normal."  
  
"Good."  
  
The first few months they were here, on this side of the ocean - two years ago, at the end of this summer - had been terrifying for them both. They were on their own in the big city, with no friends and very little money. The Winners had set them up with a doctor for Quatre to continue his weekly treatments, and the others had told them about the restaurant they'd all worked at for the few months they were in Toronto. They were already out in Ottawa without a car or enough money to come down to Toronto to see them. Trowa worked as much as he could at the restaurant and thought about asking Quatre to send for money from his family. Trowa figured the Winner's owed them. But Quatre wouldn't do it. This was their life, he said. They would do it themselves, without handouts from his family. The Winners were already taking care of his treatment, anyway.  
  
But Quatre was unable to work. The side-effects of the drugs were many and, in his small body, severe. After only a month, Trowa gave up the restaurant job to be home with Quatre. His lover was restless during the day, especially right after treatments, racked with headaches, chills and fever. Fatigue and depression also plagued him, though not as often after his doctor reduced the dosage. He slept like the dead at night, pale and exhausted in their bed. That was when Trowa made the rent and food money. He didn't like leaving Quatre alone, but if he worked quickly at the odd jobs he found, he was always back before the sky began to lighten. He didn't give Quatre the details of his jobs - he didn't like to think of them himself - but he suspected that Quatre knew, given the hours they'd both kept in their previous occupations. Toronto was a different sort of city than the one they'd lived in. But some things remained the same - dark, secret, and quick. Trowa still spoke that language fluently, if not naturally.  
  
That winter had been long and hard and cold, and Trowa wondered often why they hadn't opted to live somewhere warmer when they'd followed their friends across the ocean. But then the cold let up and with it came the end of Quatre's 24 week treatment. The doctors told him that his viral load was down below perceptible levels, which meant that he was essentially cured and his liver was out of immediate danger. The long delay between when they'd discovered his illness and when he'd finally started treatment had been just long enough for the disease to slip from acute to chronic. But the doctors had been aggressive - Quatre had insisted upon it - and it looked like the months of near-crippling side-effects paid off when his lover was able to join them all the next summer in their work on the Bresee's farm and lake-front camp. While the four of them did all the manual labor, Quatre stayed on the riding mower and avoided all serious scrubbing and heavy lifting. He brought them their lunch down by the water, much to Wufei's amusement. He called Quatre the wife only once before Trowa and Duo picked him up and hurled him off the dock. He emerged dripping wet, pulling weeds out of his shorts, tail between his legs. It was one of the few times they heard Heero laughing, though he apologized later, feeling that it was inappropriate.  
  
"I can't wait for them to get here!" Quatre blurted, jerking Trowa out of his daze. He raised his arm to shade his eyes from the hot sun and nodded. Quatre had returned to his stacking with renewed vigor. "I'm serious, Trowa. I don't think I've been this excited since..."  
  
"Since last summer?"  
  
"Yes!" He paused, hands resting on the growing stack of wood. "Well, no, actually. I was excited to see them then, but I was afraid of what they'd think of me. I was so skinny and sick looking." He shook his head to clear the memories. "But this year, this year is going to be great! And they're going to be so surprised when they see what my family sent over. I can't wait to see their faces!"  
  
"Are you sure they're going to want them back?" Trowa asked.  
  
Quatre nodded, still looking like an excited adolescent. "I thought about that for awhile, right after I received them. I thought maybe they wouldn't want to be reminded. But - I was so glad to get mine back. By the end, in those last few days, they were a part of us; they saved out lives." He fell silent for a moment. Trowa stacked wood beside him, curious whether he'd say more on the subject. They hadn't spoken much about it when the package was first delivered. "Did you get their room ready and everything?" he asked instead.  
  
"Yes. I made the extra bed too, in preparation."  
  
"Good idea. Remember when Duo stormed into our room last year, demanding a spare set of sheets so that-"  
  
"Yes, I remember."  
  
"I found it interesting that, even though they fought louder and more cruelly than anyone I've known, the furthest any of them went from the other two was the spare bed... right across from the big bed."  
  
Trowa thought about trying to explain his theory of tangled, flexible knots, but let it go. "We'll probably get a repeat performance this year."  
  
"Good thing Mr. Bresee is nearly deaf."  
  
"I find myself thinking that regularly."  
  
Quatre laughed.  
  
+  
  
They arrived just after dark, pulling into the driveway as Quatre came out onto the porch to greet them. Duo was out of the car first, leaping over the hood with his characteristic exuberance. Heero and Wufei came next, at a more sedate pace, stretching stiff muscles. Trowa came out of the barn a moment later, dragging several rickety lawn chairs behind him.  
  
"Q!" Duo shouted, dispensing with the formality of porch steps and climbing right over the railing into Quatre's arms. "You look amazing, buddy, even in the dark!" They embraced and kissed like friends who'd been apart for years rather than months. Quatre laughed and lifted Duo up, spinning him around until his legs caught in a piece of wicker furniture and they both went careening into the side of the house.  
  
Heero approached Trowa with arms outstretched to take a few of the lawn chairs, and Trowa handed them off with a murmur of thanks. In the dark it was difficult to see, but Heero looked like he was grinning. Wufei definitely was as he climbed the porch steps to pry his lover out of Quatre's grip, only to shove him out of the way so he could greet Quatre properly.  
  
They left the luggage in the car, though Trowa knew it was a mistake to do so. Now that it was dark, the mosquitoes would be out in force. Whoever was unlucky enough to have to venture out to the car later would come back red and bumpy and traumatized. Apparently, their friends did not remember the bugs from last year. They sat now on the screened-in porch, filling each other in on the details of the last six months. At the moment Wufei was recounting his harrowing escape from a disgruntled poodle on one of his deliveries. The dog had not liked him the moment she laid eyes on him and she'd chased him off the porch and down the sidewalk, right out into the street. He'd barely made it back onto his bicycle before she was trying to sink her teeth into his calf muscle.  
  
"A poodle, Wufei?" Trowa murmured, his usual monotone perfectly conveying his skepticism.  
  
Wufei sniffed. "It was a standard poodle and those are full-size dogs. I read somewhere that they used to take them into battle. They wore armor and made fierce warriors. And I'm telling you, it tried to take my leg off."  
  
"Did it have pompoms on it's ass?" Trowa returned.  
  
Wufei glowered at him. "I'm not answering that."  
  
Quatre glanced between the two of them, his grin wide, face lit up by the citronella candles on the table. Trowa smiled to himself, glad to see his lover so happy.  
  
"Wufei insists he's got the most dangerous job of the three of us," Duo said with a glint in his eye. "But he's got nothin' on me. At the shop, I have to deal with knitters." He shuddered and so did Heero. "These ladies come in with their crazy cable-knit socks all kinds of fucked up and they expect me to work miracles. I try to tell'em my area of expertise is on the other side of the store and if they have a question regarding brush size or lead hardness, I can write a freakin' essay for'em, but I wouldn't know a purl stitch from a square knot. And they never believe me!"  
  
Heero nodded, corroborating his story. "I went into the store one weekend to see Duo and they had him backed into a corner. They were waving needles in his face and shouting. I almost called the police."  
  
Wufei snorted. "That's interesting because when I had to make a delivery on that block, I stopped in and he had a gaggle of girls braiding his hair with ribbons." Quatre nearly shot seltzer through his nose. "He appeared to be enjoying himself thoroughly." Duo crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.  
  
"If I'd said no to them, they would have gotten out their knitting. I sold record yardage of ribbon that day. It got a me a raise as I recall." Wufei rolled his eyes.  
  
The conversation continued in that manner long into the night. Trowa did not contribute any stories, but that didn't keep him from interjecting his comments. He listened and laughed and spoke rarely and wondered at the mundane details of their new lives. He was happy that Duo found his freshman-level art classes to be a little boring, and that the 18-year-olds running around campus seemed so young and ridiculously clueless to him. He was glad that Wufei rode his bicycle around the city delivering parcels and letters, and that he didn't find his literature classes so demanding that he couldn't find time to stop in to see Duo at the store. He was glad that Heero didn't need to make full use of his considerable computer networking skills at his job and that his employers didn't know he could write viruses that would wipe them off the map in a matter of minutes. He was infinitely grateful that he and Quatre had found the old Bresee farm in need of two kids with good backs and no particular objection to looking after an arthritic, near-deaf patriarch.  
  
For the first year and especially during the first few months, he'd felt their new lives were barely real and in no way certain. He felt violence, ugliness, fear and disgust clawing at his back, threatening to latch onto him and drag him backwards if he only glanced over his shoulder long enough to acknowledge that they were there. Those feelings would take years to disappear completely, and their memory would probably always be with him.  
  
Especially because Quatre didn't want to forget. Maybe it was because he was the only one with family that he kept in touch with. Maybe it was because his family still made cautious advances to keep the former heir involved in the politics of the city the five of them had left behind.  
  
During a lull in the conversation his lover had disappeared into the house and he returned now lugging a familiar case. The others regarded it with a mix of curiosity and healthy suspicion. When a woman with pale skin and white-blond hair had showed up on their porch a few weeks ago, that case in hand, Trowa had known instantly that she was a Winner and since Quatre was in town with the old farmer, getting him a haircut, he'd tried to turn her away without even a word of greeting. He had less than no interest in what she wanted from them and he certainly didn't want whatever was in the case. The woman had just smiled and said that the contents of the case were not for him; they were for Quatre, and she wasn't leaving until she saw her little brother, so he could either invite her in or sit on the porch with her in the rain.  
  
They sat on the porch and he smoked several of the farmer's cigarettes because he needed something to do with his hands and his mouth that didn't include strangling her and shouting in her face to get away from them and never come back across the ocean again.  
  
Fortunately, Quatre returned after twenty minutes. Trowa was sick from all the cigarettes by then. Unfortunately, Quatre kept the case.  
  
Duo whistled softly and held the sheathed blade flat across his open palms. "Never thought I'd see this again," he murmured.  
  
"Me neither," Heero said from beside him, loosely gripping the familiar handle of his serrated knife.  
  
Wufei drew his katana from the sheath and examined the blade for only a second before sliding it back and setting it at his feet. He stared at it for a moment, and then raised his eyes. "It's still bloody," he said, voice flat. "If that's whose blood I think it is, why do you have my sword and why are you giving it to me? That's police evidence."  
  
His two lovers quickly dropped their own weapons and Duo wiped his hands on his shorts. They turned, eyes narrowed to Quatre, but the former heir didn't recoil under their stern gaze. He lifted his chin and puffed up his small chest, and Trowa marveled at how someone so small still managed to be the biggest presence in a room.  
  
"It was police evidence. It was proof that the four of us where involved in the deaths of twelve people. The Winner lawyers took care of me. Self defense isn't murder. But you all left. You ran before they could help you."  
  
"We didn't want their help," Wufei snapped.  
  
"Yeah, Q, we talked about this," Duo said, laying a restraining hand on Wufei's arm. Wufei jerked his arm away and Duo didn't try to touch him again. "We all decided that we should run. It was too dangerous for the three of us to stay there."  
  
"Why give these to us, Quatre?" Heero asked, voice hard, suspicious blue eyes already searching the dark beyond the dim light of the candle. That powerful body disguised in t-shirt and shorts quietly revealed itself as the weapon it had once needed to be when he reached one arm up to grip the side of Duo's chair.  
  
Trowa tensed and then twitched his hair out of his face to regard his friends with both eyes. "Let him finish." He looked specifically at Heero and tried to keep his voice nonthreatening. "And calm down." Heero flinched and the cheap aluminum lawn chair under his fingers squeaked in protest. Trowa turned to Quatre and nodded for him to continue.  
  
Quatre licked his lips and closed the case. "My family... we were- they were looking to expand. And a few of my sisters who hold office in the city wanted to clean things up a bit. Getting rid of Gael was one of the best ways to do both of those things. In the time you've been away and without really letting me in on any of it, they've filled his shoes and beyond." He looked up when the others all shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "Things have gotten better apparently. Everything that Gael did, all his business ventures, they brought them out into the open and made them legitimate." Duo barked a humorless laugh and looked away. "And- and anyway, if it weren't for us, if we hadn't ended up there and-"  
  
"Incited a fucking massacre?" Duo snapped.  
  
"Yes," Quatre replied softly. "If we hadn't done all the leg work, they would have had no way to do what they've been able to since he's been gone."  
  
"So it was all part of some elaborate plan to avoid getting their hands dirty?"  
  
"No, of course not," Quatre said meeting Duo's gaze, eyes sparking. "We did all of that ourselves. Wufei and I killed Gael ourselves because he was going to kill us if we didn't. It was us or him. But the Winners have always - well, we don't pass up opportunities like that, they fixed things for us. We're practically heroes there now." He looked down at the case again. "When this was delivered, I was told that it's different back home, not as volatile as it used to be. We could go back and it would be safe for us. If you wanted to, we could go home."  
  
Even though they'd made him ill, Trowa thought about reaching for the pack of cigarettes that always sat by the farmer's chair. Quatre had not told him about this part of his conversation with his sister. Their three friends looked like they were about to bolt. Heero picked up his beer and took several large swallows. Last summer they hadn't had any alcohol in the house out of respect for Quatre. This year, he'd said that he really didn't mind, and it looked like their friends were glad as, after Heero, both Duo and Wufei took long pulls off their drinks. Heero set down his bottle and then picked up the knife. "So, these aren't police evidence anymore?" He looked up at Quatre, and the young man shook his head, no.  
  
"And we're not wanted criminals?" Wufei asked skeptically. Again Quatre shook his head.  
  
"As far as the city's concerned we did everyone a great service by getting rid of him."  
  
"And we can go back?" Duo didn't look at them as he said this.  
  
"We could go back and we would be put in good positions throughout the city. We'd have influence. Power, even."  
  
Trowa watched them absorb this, left hand reaching for the cigarettes.  
  
"What kind of positions?" Wufei asked, eyes still narrowed, clearly suspicious.  
  
Quatre shrugged. "Well, there are obviously Gael's moneymaking enterprises that need leaders with heads for business. But there's also organizational positions, coordinating programs and meetings between families, outreach to other cities, and the like. Or... if you wanted, more specialized positions could be arranged. My family would love to hire you to take care of their security, Heero. And Wufei, the city school district has been in need of an overhaul for years. When you finish your degree, the district would surely pay for your graduate studies while you worked for them. My family has been in touch with the board; they could really use some fresh ideas in the English Department. And Duo, you were always more comfortable with these things than any of the rest of us were." The young man in question stiffened. "There's an entire legion of nighttime workers who are in real need of representation and leadership. You could-"  
  
Trowa's fingers closed around the cigarettes and accidentally crushed them. "Absolutely not," he said, just barely managing to conceal his panic. His voice was no louder than normal, but everyone heard him and everyone turned to hear what he had to say. He took a slow deep breath and put the ruined pack of smokes back on the table. He looked to Quatre whose face was aglow with the possibilities that awaited them. Trowa could only hear Duo screaming when Cecile pulled on his injured shoulder, his voice echoing raw and broken. He could only hear gunshots striking muscle and lodging in bone, his own muscle and bone. He could only see his lover's torn mouth, his small frame wrapped in blankets on their couch, a virus in his blood, already attacking his liver. Time rewound further and he saw Wufei returning from his first job, sick and disgusted with himself. He spent the entire night in the bathroom. He saw Duo's easy sensuality and his easy smile rendering his hurt nearly invisible. Duo could bend into any shape necessary and like Trowa he was a master of stealth, disappearing when in plain sight of a dozen people, but he couldn't hide his hurt from everyone. Trowa had always known how to find it. He couldn't hide it from him four years ago and he couldn't hide it now. So Trowa cleared his head of all the shit and spoke his mind, stepping between Quatre and what he was about to say to Duo.  
  
"Quatre," he murmured. "I love you and I will stand with you no matter what you do in life. And even though your heart is in the right place and you're doing what you think is best for us all, I swear to god, if you ever try to convince our friends to go back to that place, if you try to convince yourself that you want to go back there, I will drag you upstairs, tie you to the bed, and keep you there until you come to your senses."  
  
For the next several seconds, the wind in the big maple tree was the only sound. The weather was changing, and Trowa could feel a storm rumbling closer. Quatre looked at him, deflated and unsure of himself. He looked down and thick blond bangs hid his eyes. Trowa thought that maybe he'd been a little harsh. Then Wufei cleared his throat and took another swallow of his drink.  
  
"All things considered, that doesn't sound much like punishment to me."  
  
Duo's grin was a little forced, but Trowa could see that he was also relieved, leaping up and grabbing both his lovers by the elbows. "Yeah, speaking of beds and tying people to them, isn't it time we head to ours? I'm bushed."  
  
Before they crowded off the porch and into the house, they all grabbed the blades that the Winners had returned to them and Trowa had to admit that deadly weapons did look natural in their hands, even though Duo now sold knitting accessories and drew portraits, Wufei delivered packages and read books and Heero tinkered with computers for a living. As he passed, Duo let go of Wufei's arm and ghosted his fingers though Quatre's hair. "Let's talk about this in the morning, okay?" Quatre nodded without looking up. Trowa reached over to take his hand where it rested in his lap.  
  
+  
  
As the lightening got closer and the storm began to assert that it was indeed headed straight for them, Trowa rose from his and Quatre's bed and went to the window. The wind was picking up, rattling the old window frame. He bent down, nearly pressing his nose to the screen, and inhaled deeply, catching the thick scent of rain and cooler weather just behind it. The first drops of rain began to fall, and he turned back to the bed to pull on a pair of jeans. He glanced up when Quatre rolled over and shoved himself into a half-sitting position, blinking blearily. He rubbed the heel of his hand through one eye and spoke softly, voice thick with sleep.  
  
"What're you doing?"  
  
He straightened, jerking the jeans up over his hips and zipping the fly. "Covering the woodpile," he murmured. "We forgot to do it before dinner."  
  
Quatre groaned and fell back onto the bed.  
  
"It will only take a moment. I'll be right back. Don't want the old man complaining about wet wood in the morning."  
  
His lover made another unintelligible remark and then rolled off the bed, landing on hands and knees and then climbing to his feet. "S'okay," he muttered. "I'll come with you." Lightening flashed outside, bathing their room in a momentary blue-white glow. Quatre blinked in the bright light and then braced for the thunder that followed. Storms made Quatre nervous. Their wild, destructive energy made him twitchy and reminded Trowa of the boy who'd done his best to fit in with a pack of hustlers and had ended up a killer.  
  
"Let's hurry," Quatre muttered, as he pulled on a pair of cutoffs.  
  
They stepped out onto the porch just as the sporadic fat drops of rain began to fall faster. Then they jogged down the steps and along the driveway into the side yard where the wood was stacked by one of the outbuildings. Trowa waited outside while Quatre ran into the shed to fetch the tarp. Briefly, light shown through the boards when Quatre turned on the flashlight and rooted around amongst the old push-mowers and garden hoses. Trowa stood in the rain and watched the lightening illuminate towering cumulonimbus clouds as they sluggishly passed overhead. Thunder assaulted his ears and rumbled in his ribcage. He liked storms. They made him feel small and inconsequential. As he stared upward, a small light from the house caught his eye and he glanced sidelong at its source, finding that the spare bedroom lamp was on. Before he could step back to get a better view, Quatre emerged with the tarp and together they stretched it over the pile, tucking in the edges and laying a few pieces of wood on top to keep it from blowing off. They completed this task in silence. They'd gone to bed in silence as well. They hadn't spoken at length since Trowa had threatened to imprison him in their bedroom.  
  
The rain started in earnest and the lightening had Quatre jittery, so when they finished securing the tarp, they headed back for the house. Trowa's eyes returned to the illuminated window one more time and he stopped short, grabbing hold of Quatre's arm. "Look," he murmured, pointing up at the window.  
  
Wind and rain pounded against their backs as they gazed up into the spare room. They watched without embarrassment or shame; sex had been their livelihood for long enough that witnessing their friends in a compromising position was not something they flinched away from. And besides, the exact details of their friends' actions were hidden by the window frame. But going by the rhythm of their movements and the order in which they were arranged on the bed, Trowa could make a very educated guess as to what was happening. A glance to his left showed Quatre offering the window a tentative but affectionate smile.  
  
Above them, more or less perfectly framed, they could see Heero on his knees, bracing himself against the wall with one hand, his other resting on the bed. His head hung between his shoulders, thick dark hair swinging gently with the rhythm of Wufei's movements behind him. Trowa couldn't see his expression but the muscles in his back stood out in stark relief. His hand was clenched in a fist against the wall. Wufei's hands were not visible, one most likely gripping Heero's hip below the windowsill, the other behind him, wrapped around the back of Duo's neck, hidden by his braid. Duo had the dragon's hair fisted in one hand, the other resting flat against his belly. Their movements were slow and fluid and it was obvious to Trowa that they'd had lots and lots of practice. Trowa knew sex and he knew men's bodies and he knew that no one could move like that unless they'd committed countless hours to understanding and exploring their partners' bodies. He admired the languid forward and back motion, the way leg muscles flexed and pushed.  
  
Duo was speaking into Wufei's ear, his lips barely moving, their rhythm never faltering. Wufei's eyes slid closed and his mouth fell open in a gasp, head tipping back, Duo's fingers tightening in his hair. Heero looked back over his shoulder and said something that led Wufei to lean forward, his other hand falling to Heero's hips. Trowa swallowed hard when the dragon traced the bumps of Heero's spine with his tongue, pulling at light brown skin with his teeth.  
  
Quatre's hand found its way around his waist, resting on the fly of his jeans. He hadn't bothered to do up the last button. "They're good at that," he whispered, echoing Trowa's thoughts. "They must practice a lot." Quatre slid behind him, wrapping his arms more securely around his middle. Trowa felt his head come to rest between his shoulder blades. Thunder crackled and then boomed around them and Quatre's arms tightened.  
  
"I think they do."  
  
He felt hair wet with rainwater tease the back of his neck. "Am I a horrible person for thinking that maybe we could have gone back?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you think I hurt them? I didn't mean to."  
  
"I think you scared them. I know you scared me."  
  
His lover's arms tightened again, a quick hard squeeze. "I'm sorry, Trowa. I didn't think... I wasn't sure how to deal with the idea myself."  
  
"None of us are sure, mon petite."  
  
A gust of wind swept against their backs, pushing them forward a half-step. Quatre kept them moving, shuffling Trowa back to the house. He pulled his arms from around Trowa's waist and stuck them in the pockets of his cutoffs. "We have these new lives and these things we do to fill our time, but I can't help thinking that... we're not normal. What we did before makes us different, and I don't know how long we can try to be normal here."  
  
They both glanced up before they came under the porch roof. Their friends' lovemaking was growing more urgent and Trowa's heart thrummed in answer. He wasn't sure whether it was the storm, the sight of them, or Quatre's words that made his body feel charged and dangerous, but he felt like the slightest stimulus would shatter the calm he'd been working these last two years to achieve. He watched Wufei's right hand slide around the front of Heero's body, still out of sight. Heero's arms nearly gave out, his back arching up, eyes flying open.  
  
Trowa shuddered and then almost shouted his surprise when Quatre pushed him up the porch steps and right into the side of the house. He couldn't make out his lover's features in the dark, but then lightening flashed close by and the young man's pale face leaped into harsh relief. The weak, sick, child was gone, had been gone for almost a year now. He didn't need Trowa to care for him anymore. Trowa saw the dangerous boy from their old home and he felt their new lives teetering on that slim edge between safety and free fall. Their three friends had those flexible complex knots, a solid, if not entirely stable base. Trowa had only this boy, who was by turns tender and caring and terrifying.  
  
"I haven't had you from behind in a long time." Quatre's lips ghosted along his jaw when he spoke.  
  
Trowa's mouth twitched up into a small smile. Maybe he'd missed this Quatre just a little.  
  
"Are you saying we need practice?"  
  
"We can always use practice. It will never be old, never routine."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"We're different - strange. It will always be like this for us. We are destined for greatness."  
  
(end)


End file.
